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^^: 


THE  _S WARM 


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THE  SWARM 


FROM 


THE    LIFE    OF    THE    BEE 


BY 


'^ 


^-ri 


^ 


MAURICE  MAETERLINCK  f 

TRANSLATED   BY    ALFRED    SUTRO 

WITH    FRONTISPIECE   AND    DECORATIONS   BY 

ANTHONY    EUWER 


a! 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,   MEAD   AND   COMPANY 

1906 
BOSTOl^  COLL^^iii  ijIbUARY 
CHESTI^UT  HILL,  MASS, 


>2« 


\:    Copyright,  1901,  19O6,  by  N§ 

I^^DODD,  Mead  and   Company '.»^,^ 

y^ll  rights  reserved 


>^. 


t. 
-» 


Published,  October,  1906 


^^K.. 


m 


6til76 


^ 


THE  SWARM 

WE  will  now,  so  as  to  draw  more 
closely  to  nature,  consider  the  dif-.^ 
ferent  episodes  of  the  swarm  as  they  come", 
to  pass  in  an  ordinary  hive,  which  is  ten 
or  twenty  times  more  populous  than  an 
observation  one,  and  leaves  the  bees  en-- 
tirely  free  and  untrammelled.  v'^ 

Here,  then,  they  have  shaken  off  thex,^ 
torpor  of  winter.  The  queen  started  laying  "^-'^'^ 
again  in  the  very  first  days  of  February, 
and  the  workers  have  flocked  to  the  wil- 
lows and  nut-trees,  gorse  and  violets,, 
anemones  and  lungworts.  Then  spring 
invades  the  earth,  and  cellar  and  stream^ 
[1] 


i-:^ 


^ 


^y 


5^ 

TTHE    SWARM 

with  honey  and  pollen,  while  each  day  be- 
§1  _  holds  the  birth  of  thousands  of  bees.  The 
overgrown  males  now  all  sally  forth  from 
their  cells,  and  disport  themselves  on  the 
combs ;  and  so  crowded  does  the  too  pros- 
perous city  become  that  hundreds  of  be- 
lated workers,  coming  back  from  the 
flowers  towards  evening,  will  vainly  seek 
shelter  within,  and  will  be  forced  to  spend 
the  night  on  the  threshold,  where  they  will 
be  decimated  by  the  cold. 

Restlessness  seizes  the  people,  and  the 
old  queen  begins  to  stir.  She  feels  that 
a  new  destiny  is  being  prepared.  ,^^Jm 
religiously  fulfilled  her  duty  as'a^^d 
creatress;  and  from  this  duty  done  there 
results  only  tribulation  and  sorrow.  An' 
invincible  power  menaces  her  tranquillity; 


THE    SWARM 

she  will  soon  be  forced  to  quit  this  city 
of  hers,  where  she  has  reigned.  But  this 
city  is  her  work,  it  is  she,  herself.  She 
is  not  its  queen  in  the  sense  in  which  men 
use  the  word.  She  issues  no  orders;  she 
obeys,  as  meekly  as  the  humblest  of  her 
subjects,  the  masked  power,  sovereignly 
wise,  that  for  the  present,  and  till  w4  at- 
tempt to  locate  it,  we  will  term  the  "  spirit 
of  the  hive.''  But  she  is  the  unique  organ 
of  love;  she  is  the  mother  of  the  city. 
She  founded  it  amid  uncertainty  and  pov- 
erty. She  has  peopled  it  with  her  own 
substance;  and  all  who  move  within  its 
j^lK-—  workers,  males,  larv^,  nymphs,  and 
^v?i;?"  tfie  young  princesses  whose  approaching  ' 
^  birth  will  hasten  her  own  departure,  one 

of  them  being  already  designed  as  her  suc^f/fe^^^ 


^    ^  THE    SWARM 


cesser  by  the  "  spirit  of  the  hive "  —  all 
these  have  issued  from  her  flanks. 

What  is  this  "spirit  of  the  hive"  — 

where  does  it  reside?    It  is  not  like  the 

special   instinct   that  teaches  the  bird  ta 

construct  its  well  planned  nest,  and  then 

seek  other  skies  when  the  day  for  migra- 

tion  returns.    Nor  is  it  a  kind  of  mechanr 

ical  habit  of  the  race,  or  blind  craving  for  ^  ^ 

life,  that  will  fling  the  bees  upon  any  wild-^-'V'-*' ' 

-^  t-  ^^ 

hazard   the  moment  an  unforeseen  twtx\iZ--,Z^^' 

.    -'^  ^^^ 

shall    derange    the    accustomed    order    ofv.r.'^v'^'^ 


vvv:.rv 


phenomena.      On    the   contrary,    be    the-«- v^C:--J 
event  never  so  masterful,  the  "spirit  ofc^^-  ^ 
the  hive "  still  will  follow  it,  step  by  step;^^  ^*" 
like  an  alert  and  quick-witted  slave,  who 


[4] 


THE    SWARM 
'fif^-MAt  to  derive  advantage  even  from  his 


,%«H#*naster's  most  dangerous  orders. 


'^^  It  disposes  pitilessly  of  the  wealth  and 
f?fe?the  happiness,  the  liberty  and  life,  of  all 
this  winged  people;  and  yet  with  discre- 
fffffiftion,  as  though  governed  itself  by  some 
'^.'"i'^great  duty.  It  regulates  day  by  day  the  S'-^J^ 
number  of  births,  and  contrives  that  these  -^t.^- ' 
shall  strictly  accord  with  the  number  of  "%- 
flowers  that  brighten  the  country-side.  It 
decrees  the  queen's  deposition  or  warns 
her  that  she  must  depart ;  it  compels  her 
^'  to  bring  her  own  rivals  into  the  worlds  and 
rears  them  royally,  protecting  them  from 
their  mother's  political  hatred.  So,  too,  in 
accordance  with  the  generosity  of  the 
flowers^  the  age  of  the  spring,  and  the 
probable  dangers  of  the  nuptial  flight,  will 

[5] 


V 

V 


c: 
ft 


■^. 


THE    SWARM 

r^.  permit  or  forbid  the  first^cki  of  the 
virgin  princesses  to  slay  in  their  cradles^ 
her  younger  sisters,  who  are  singing  the     /v 
song  of  the  queens.    At  other  times,  when  - 
the  season  wanes,  and  flowery  hours  gr 
shorter,    it   will    command    the    worl 
themselves  to  slaughter  the  whole  imperial 
brood,  that   the   era  of   revolutions   may 
close,  and  work  become  the  sole  object  of 
all.    The  "spirit  of  the  hive"  is  prudent 
and  thrifty,  but  by  no  means  parsimonious. 
And   thus,    aware,  it   would   seem,    that 
nature's  laws  are  somewhat  wild  and  e^r 
travagant  in  all  that  pertains  to  love,  it  tol- 
erates, during  summer  days  of  abundance, 
the  embarrassing  presence  in  the  hive  'Sf 
three  or  four  hundred  males,  from  whose 
ranks  the  queen  about  to  be  born  shall 
[6] 


THE    SWARM 

select  her   lover;    three  or  four  hundred 
^^2^^Joolish,   clumsy,   useless,  noisy  creatures, 

who    are    pretentious,    gluttonous,    dirty, 

coarse,  totally  and  scandalously  idle,  in- 
';Ai'C  ^satiable,  and  enormous. 

But    after   the    queen's    impregnation, 

when  flowers  begin  to  close  sooner,  and 

-5^s  __2P^^  '^^^^'  t^^  ^P'^'^  ^^^^  morning  will  cold- 

::^  /f]y ,^imrtt  the   simultaneous    and    general 
~^|^-^ '^rmassacre  of  every  male.    It  regulates  the 

^''''^^'^  workers'  labours,  with  due  regard  to  their 

r*" — 

.     age ;  it  allots  their  task  to  the  nurses  who 

"l^end  the  nymphs  and  the  larvae,  the  ladies 

^^^^^-lof  honour  who  wait  on  the  queen  and 

Wyer  allow  her  out  of  their  sight;    the 

house-bees  who  air,  refresh,  or  heat  the 

^_^5rhive  by  fanning  their  wings,  and  hasten 

the  evaporation  of  the  honey  that  may  be 

[7] 


'^/ 


THE    SWARM  ^ 

too  highly  charged  with  water;  the  archi- 
tects, masons,  wax-workers,  and  sculptors 
who  form  the  chain  and  construct  the 
combs ;  the  foragers  who  sally  forth  to  the 
flowers  in  search  of  the  nectar  that  turns 
into  honey,  of  the  pollen  that  feeds  the 
nymphs  and  the  larvae,  the  propolis  that 
welds  and  strengthens  the  buildings  of  the 
city,  or  the  water  and  salt  required  by  the 
youth  of  the  nation.  Its  orders  have  gone 
to  the  chemists  who  ensure  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  honey  by  letting  a  drop  of 
formic  acid  fall  in  from  the  end  of  their 
sting;  to  the  capsule-makers  who  seal 
down  the  cells  when  the  treasure  is  ripe, 
to  the  sweepers  who  maintain  public  places 
and  streets  most  irreproachably  clean,  to 
the  bearers  whose  duty  it  is  to  remove  the 

[8] 


m 


THE    SWARM 

corpses;  and  to  the  amazons  of  the  guard 
who  keep  watch  on  the  threshold  by  night 
and  by  day,  question  comers  and  goers, 
recognise  the  novices  who  return  from 
their  very  first  flight,  scare  away  vaga- 
bonds, marauders  and  loiterers,  expel  all 
intruders,  attack  redoubtable  foes  in  a 
body,  and,  if  need  be,  barricade  the 
entrance. 

Finally,  it  is  the  spirit  of  the  hive  that 
fixes  the  hour  of  the  great  annual  sacri- 
fice to  the  genius  of  the  race:  the  hour, 
that  is,  of  the  swarm;  when  we  find  a 
whole  people,  who  have  attained  the  top- 
most pinnacle  of  prosperity  and  power, 
suddenly  abandoning  to  the  generation  to 
come  their  wealth  and  their  palaces,  their 
homes  and  the  fruits  of  their  labour; 
[9] 


THE    SWARM 

themselves  content  to  encounter  the  hard- 
ships and  perils  of  a  new  and  distant 
country.  This  act,  be  it  conscious  or 
not,  undoubtedly  passes  the  limits  of 
human  morality.  Its  result  will  some- 
times be  ruin,  but  poverty  always;  and 
the  thrice-happy  city  is  scattered  abroad 
in  obedience  to  a  law  superior  to  its  own 
happiness.  Where  has  this  law  been 
decreed,  which,  as  we  soon  shall  find,  is 
by  no  means  as  blind  and  inevitable  as 
one  might  believe?  Where,  in  what  as- 
sembly, what  council,  what  intellectual  and 
moral  sphere,  does  this  spirit  reside  to 
whom  all  must  submit,  itself  being  vassal 
to  an  heroic  duty,  to  an  intelligence 
whose  eyes  are  persistently  fixed  on 
the  future ?  ;: -^  :-;M^^";-: 

[10] 


'"  i.',*i((...*Vc. 


"''-t      "'^'i. 


4^S^ 


THE    SWARM 

It  comes  to  pass  with  the  bees  as  with 
most  of  the  things  in  this  world;  we  re- 
mark some  few  of  their  habits ;  we  say 
they  do  this,  they  work  in  such  and 
such  fashion,  their  queens  are  born  thus, 
their  workers  are  virgin,  they  swarm  at  a 
certain  time.  And  then  we  imagine  we 
know  them,  and  ask  nothing  more.  We 
watch  them  hasten  from  flower  to  flower, 
we  see  the  constant  agitation  within  the 
hive;  their  life  seems  very  simple  to 
us,  and  bounded,  like  every  life,  by 
the  instinctive  cares  of  reproduction  and 
nourishment.  But  let  the  eye  draw  near, 
and  endeavour  to  see ;  and  at  once 
the  least  phenomenon  of  all  becomes 
%V.-'3verpoweringly   complex;    we    are    con- 


fronted   by   the  enigma    of   intellect,   of 


^^^^^:j>« 


■?^«l?-'?hj^»:]ir^;^J^^-'H;j?p^,.;;.t^':,  ,^^^-1 


I 


THE    SWARM 

4  6  destiny,    will,    aim,    means,    causes ;    the 
'-'■  incomprehensible  organisation  of  the  most 
insignificant  act  of  life.    ,, 


Our  hive,  then,  is  preparing  to  swarm ; 
making  ready  for  the  great  immolation  to  ^^ 
the  exacting  gods  of  the  race.    In  obedi-:^^==^ 
ence  to  the  order  of  the  spirit  —  an  order 
that  to  us  may  well  seem  incomprehensi- 
ble, for  it  is  entirely  opposed  to  all  our 
own    instincts    and    feelings  —  60,000    or 
70,000  bees  out  of  the  80,000  or  90,000  ^^ 
that  form  the  whole  population  will  aban-   "^  ^ 
don  the  maternal  city  at   the   prescribed  ^^ 
hour.    They  will  not  leave  at  a  moment.^ 


of    despair;    or  desert,  with  sudden   zxAk 
wild    resolve,    a    home    laid    waste    by 

[12] 


^ 


^ 


•^ 


THE    SWARM 

famine,  disease,  or  war.  No,  the  exile 
has  long  been  planned,  and  the  favour- 
able hour  patiently  awaited.  Were  the 
hive  poor,  had  it  suffered  from  pil- 
lage or  storm,  had  misfortune  befallen 
the  royal  family,  the  bees  would  not 
^forsake  it.  They  leave  it  only  when 
it  has  attained  the  apogee  of  its 
prosperity;  at  a  time  when,  after  the 
arduous  labours  of  the  spring,  the 
immense  palace  of  wax  has  its  120,000 
well-arranged  cells  overflowing  with 
new  honey,  and  with  the  many- 
coloured  flour,  known  as  "  bees'  bread,'' 
on  which  nymphs  and  larvae  are 
fed. 

Never     is     the    hive    more    beautiful 
than  on  the  eve  of  its  heroic  renounce- 
[13] 


THE    SWARM 

ment,  in  its  unrivalled  hour  of  fullest 
abundance  and  joy;  serene  for  all  its 
apparent    excitement  and  feverishness. 

Let    us  endeavour    to    picture    it    fS^ 
ourselves,  not  as   it   appears  to  the   bees,  :. 
—  for  we  cannot   tell  in  what   magical, 
formidable  fashion  things  may  be  reflected 
in  the  6,000  or  7,000  facets  of  their  lat-  ^ 
eral  eyes  and  the  triple  Cyclopean  eye  on  ^ 
their   brow,  —  but  as  it  would    seem    to  /v 
us,  were  we  of  their  stature.    From  the^^ 
height  of  a  dome  more  colossal  than  that  <v.. 
of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome  waxen  walls  de-  >••; 
scend  to  the  ground,  balanced  in  the  void 
and  the  darkness;  gigantic  and  manifold, 
vertical   and   parallel  geometric    construc- 
tions,   to    which,    for    relative,  precision, 
audacity,  and  vastness,  no  human  struc- 

[14] 


THE    SWARM 

ture  is  comparable.    Each  of  these  walls, 

whose   substance  still  is   immaculate  and 

^_.  s;.  fragrant,     of    virginal,    silvery    freshness, 

contains    thousands     of     cells,    that    are 

^.-.stored  with  provisions  sufficient  to  feed 

the     whole     people    for    several    weeks. 

Here,  lodged  in  transparent  cells,  are  the 

pollens,  love-ferment  of  every  flower  of 

spring,  making  brilliant   splashes  of    red 

^nd  yellow,  of  black  and  mauve.    Close 

in -^  twenty      thousand     reservoirs, 

'^'     sealed    with  a  seal    that    shall    only   be 

^^^^^--.broken  on  days  of  supreme  distress,  the 

^7— -honey    of  April    is    stored,   most    limpid 

^"^'^  ^%nd    perfumed    of    all,    wrapped    round 

with  long    and    magnificent    embroidery 

of   gold,  whose    borders    hang   stifi^  and 

rigid.     Still    lower    the    honey    of    May 

[15] 


f2/y'^^^^'^' 


M\l 


THE    g%A 


matures,  in  great  open  vats,  by  whose 
side  watchful  cohorts  maintain  an  inces- 
sant current  of  air.  In  the  centre,  and  >V^ 
far  from  the  light  whose  diamond  rays  - '  * 
steal  in  through  the  only  opening,  in 
the  warmest  part  of  the  hive,  there 
stands  the  abode  of  the  future;  here 
does  it  sleep,  and  wake.  For  this  is  ^'"'^^ 
the  royal  domain  of  the  brood-cells,  set 
apart  for  the  queen  and  her  acolytes; 
about  10,000  cells  wherein  the  eggs 
repose,  1?,000  or  16,000  chambers  ten- 
anted by  larvae,  40,000  dwellings  in- 
habited by  white  nymphs  to  whom 
thousands  of  nurses  minister.^  And  fin- 
ally,   in    the    holy    of    holies    of    these 

*  The  figures  given  here  are  scrupulously  exact. 
They  are  those  of  a  well -filled  hive  in  full  prosperity. 

[16] 


THE    SWARM 

parts,  are  the  three,  four,  six,  or  twelve 
sealed  palaces,  vast  in  size  compared 
with  the  others,  where  the  adolescent 
princesses  lie  who  await  their  hour, 
wrapped  in  a  kind  of  shroud,  all  of 
them  motionless  and  pale,  and  fed  in 
the  darkness. 


On  the  day,  then,  that  the  Spirit  of 
the  Hive  has  ordained,  a  certain  part  of 
•the  population  will  go  forth,  selected  in 
accordance  with  sure  and  immovable 
laws,  and  make  way  for  hopes  that  as 
yet  are  formless.  In  the  sleeping  city 
there  remain  the  males,  from  whose 
ranks  the  royal  lover  shall  come,  the  very 
young  bees  that  tend  the  brood-cells, 
and    some    thousands     of    workers  who 

[17] 


L 


^ 0 


THE    SWARM 

continue  to  forage  abroad,  to  guard  the 
accumulated  treasure,  and  preserve  the 
moral  traditions  of  the  hive.  For  each 
hive  has  its  own  code  of  morals.  There 
are  some  that  are  very  virtuous  and  some 
that  are  very  perverse;  and  a  careless 
bee-keeper  will  often  corrupt  his  people, 
destroy  their  respect  for  the  property  of 
others,  incite  them  to  pillage,  and  induce 
in  them  habits  of  conquest  and  idleness 
which  will  render  them  sources  of  danger 
to  all  the  little  republics  around.  These 
things  result  from  the  bee's  discovery 
that  work  among  distant  flowers,  whereof 
many  hundreds  must  be  visited  to  form 
one  drop  of  honey,  is  not  the  only  or 
promptest  method  of  acquiring  wealth, 
but  that  it  is  easier  to  enter  ill-guarded 
[18]         ^-' 


THE    SWARM 

cities  by  stratagem,  or  force  her  way 
into  others  too  weak  for  self-defence. 
Nor  is  it  easy  to  restore  to  the  paths  of 
duty  a  hive  that  has  become  thus 
depraved. 

All  things  go  to  prove  that  it  is  not 
the  queen,  but  the  spirit  of  the  hive,  that 
decides  on  the  swarm.  With  this  queen 
of  ours  it  happens  as  with  many  a  chief 
among  men,  who  though  he  appear  to 
give  orders,  is  himself  obliged  to  obey 
commands  far  more  mysterious,  far  more 
inexplicable,  than  those  he  issues  to  his 
subordinates.  The  hour  once  fixed,  the 
..spirit  will  probably  let  it  be  known  at 
break  of  dawn,  or  the  previous  night,  if 


indeed.,not  Iwo  nights  before ;  for  scarcely 


THE    SWARM 

has  the  sun  drunk  in  the  first  drops  of 
dew  when  a  most  unaccustomed  stir, 
whose  meaning  the  bee-keeper  rarely  will 
fail  to  grasp,  is  to  be  noticed  within  and 
around  the  buzzing  city.  At  times  one 
would  almost  appear  to  detect  a  sign  of  dis- 
pute, hesitation,  recoil.  It  will  happen  even 
that  for  day  after  day  a  strange  emotion, 
apparently  without  cause,  will  appear  and 
vanish  in  this  transparent,  golden  throng. 
Has  a  cloud  that  we  cannot  see  crept 
across  the  sky  that  the  bees  are  watch- 
ing; or  is  their  intellect  battling  with  a 
new  regret?  Does  a  winged  council  de- 
bate the  necessity  of  a  departure?  Of 
this  we  know  nothing;  as  we  know 
nothing  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
spirit  conveys  its  resolution  to  the  crowd. 

[20] 


THE    SWARM 

Certain  as  it  may  seem  that  the  bees 
communicate  with  each  other,  we  know 
not    whether    this    be    done    in    human 

'--^^^  fashion.  It  is  possible  even  that  their 
own  refrain  may  be  inaudible  to  them: 
the   murmur    that   comes    to  us    heavily 

:.\^^,,,:,,  laden  with  perfume  of  honey,  the  ecstatic 
whisper  of  fairest  summer  days  that  the 
bee-keeper  loves  so  well,  the  festival  song 
of  labour  that  rises  and  falls  around  the 
hive  in  the  crystal  of  the  hour,  and 
^  might  almost  be  the  chant  of  the  eager 
flowers,  hymn  of  their  gladness  and  echo 
of  their   soft   fragrance,  the  voice  of  the 

.  ^  white  carnations,  the  marjoram,  and  the 
thyme.  They  have,  however,  a  whole 
gamut  of  sounds  that  we  can  distinguish, 
ranging  from  profound  delight  to  menace, 

[21] 


THE    SWARM 

distress,  and  anger ;  they  have  the  ode  of 
the  queen,  the  song  of  abundance,  the 
psalms  of  grief,  and,  lastly,  the  long  and 
mysterious  war-cries  the  adolescent  prii^ 
cesses  send  forth  during  the  combats  and 
massacres  that  precede  the  nuptial  flight. 
May  this  be  a  fortuitous  music  that  fails 
to  attain"  their  inward  silence?  In  any 
event  they  seem  not  the  least  disturbed 
at  the  noises  we  make  near  the  hive; 
but  they  regard  these  perhaps  as  not  of 
their  world,  and  possessed  of  no  interest 
for  them.  It  is  possible  that  we  on  our 
side  hear  only  a  fractional  part  of  the 
sounds  that  the  bees  produce,  and  they 
have  many  harmonies  to  which  our  ear^^^ 
are  not  attuned.  We  soon  shall  see  with 
what   startling  rapidity  they  are   able  to 

[22]     -  "%m 


THE  SWARM 
understand  each  other,  and  adopt  con- 
certed measures,  when,  for  instance,  the 
great  honey  thief,  the  huge  sphinx 
atropos,  the  sinister  butterfly  that  bears  a 
^  death's  head  on  its  back,  penetrates  into 
^c  the  hive,  humming  its  own  strange  note, 
which  acts  as  a  kind  of  irresistible 
incantation ;  the  news  spreads  quickly 
^  from  group  to  group,  and  from  the 
guards  at  the  threshold  to  the  workers 
on  the  furthest  combs,  the  whole 
population    quivers. 

r-./.^J|3l'was  for  a  long  time  believed  that 
when  these  wise  bees,  generally  so  pru- 
dent, so  far-sighted  and  economical,  aban- 
doned   the    treasures   of   their    kingdom 

7 


THE    SWA'^M 


and  flung  themselves  upon  the  uncep 
tainties  of  life,  they  were  yielding  to  aV  r 
kind  of  irresistible  folly,  a  mechanicll^^ 
impulse,  a  law  of  the  species,  a  decree' 
of  nature,  or  to  the  force  that  for  all 
creatures  lies  hidden  in  the  revolution  of 
time.  It  is  our  habit,  in  the  case  of  the 
bees  no  less  than  our  own,  to  regard  as 
fatality  all  that  we  do  not  as  yet  under- 
stand. But  now  that  the  hive  has  sur- 
rendered two  or  three  of  its  material 
secrets,  we  have  discovered  that  this 
exodus  is  neither  instinctive  nor  inevitable. 
It  is  not  a  blind  emigration,  but  appar- 
ently the  well-considered  sacrifice  of  the 
present  generation  in  favour  of  the  gen- 
eration to  come.  The  bee-keeper  has  only 
to    destroy    in    their    cells    the    young 

[24] 


THE    SWARM 

queens  that  still  are  inert,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  if  nymphs  and  larvae  abound, 
to  enlarge  the  store-houses  and  dormi- 
tories of  the  nation,  for  this  unprofit- 
able tumult  instantaneously  to  subside, 
for  work  to  be  at  once  resumed,  and 
the  flowers  revisited  ;  while  the  old 
queen,  who  now  is  essential  again,  with 
no  successor  to  hope  for,  or  perhaps  to 
fear,  will  renounce  for  this  year  her  de- 
sire for  the  light  of  the  sun.  Reassured 
as  to  the  future  of  the  activity  that  will 
soon  spring  into  life,  she  will  tranquilly 
resume  her  maternal  labours,  which  con- 
sist in  the  laying  of  two  or  three  thou- 
sand eggs  a  day,  as  she  passes,  in  a 
methodical  spiral,  from  cell  to  cell, 
omitting  none,  and  never  pausing  to  rest. 

[25] 


THE    SWARM 

Where  is  the  fatality  here,  save  in  the 
love  of  the  race  of  to-day  for  the  race  of 
to-morrow?  This  fatality  exists  in  the 
human  species  also,  but  its  extent  and 
power  seem  infinitely  less.  Among  men 
it  never  gives  rise  to  sacrifices  as  great, 
as  unanimous,  or  as  complete.  What  far- 
seeing  fatality,  taking  the  place  of  this 
one,  do  we  ourselves  obey?  We  know 
not;  as  we  know  not  the  being  who 
watches  us  as  we  watch  the  bees. 

But  the  hive  that  we  have  selected  is 
disturbed  in  its  history  by  no  interference 
of   man:    and    as   the  beautiful   day  ad-:.-;, 
vances  with    radiant  and    tranquil    steps   "^' 
beneath  the  trees,  its  ardour,  still  bathed 

[26] 


THE    SWARM 

in  dew,  makes  the  appointed  hour  seem 
laggard.  Over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
golden  corridors  that  divide  the  parallel 
walls  the  workers  are  busily  making  pre- 
paration for  the  journey.  And  each  one 
will  first  of  all  burden  herself  with  pro- 
vision of  honey  sufficient  for  five  or  six 
days.  From  this  honey  that  they  bear 
within  them  they  will  distil,  by  a  chem- 
ical process  still  unexplained,  the  wax 
required  for  the  immediate  construction 
of  buildings.  They  will  provide  them- 
selves also  with  a  certain  amount  of 
propolis,  a  kind  of  resin  with  which 
they  will  seal  all  the  crevices  in  the  new 
dwelling,  strengthen  weak  places,  varnish 
the  walls,  and  exclude  the  light;  for  the 
bees  love  to  work  in  almost  total  obscu- 

[27] 


THE    SWARM 

rity,  guiding  themselves  with  their  many- 
faceted  eyes,  or  with  their  antennas  per- 
haps, the  seat,  it  would  seem,  of  an 
unknown  sense  that  fathoms  and 
measures  the  darkness. 


They  are  not  without  prescience,  there- 
fore, of  what  is  to  befall  them  on  this 
the  most  dangerous  day  of  all  their  ex- 
istence. Absorbed  by  the  cares,  the  pro- 
digious perils  of  this  mighty  adventure, 
they  will  have  no  time  now  to  visit  the 
gardens  and  meadows;  and  to-morrow, 
and  after  to-morrow,  it  may  happen  that 
rain  may  fall,  or  there  may  be  wind; 
that  their  wings  may  be  frozen  or  the 
flowers  refuse  to  open.    Famine  and  death 

[28] 


THE    SWARM 

would  await   them  were   it  not  for  this 
foresight  of  theirs.    None  would  come  to 
their   help,  nor  would   they  seek   help   of 
any.    For  one   city  knows  not  the  other, 
and  assistance  never  is  given.    And  even 
though   the  bee-keeper   deposit   the   hive, 
in  which   he  has   gathered  the  old  queen 
and  her  attendant  cluster  of  bees,  by  the      -£^^ 
side    of    the    abode   they    have    but  this      ;|' 
moment  quitted,  they  would  seem,  be  the 
disaster   never    so   great   that    shall    now 
have  befallen   them,  to    have  wholly  for- 
gotten the  peace  and  the  happy   activity 
that    once    they   had    known    there,   the 
abundant  wealth    and  the  safety  that  had 
then  been  their  portion ;  and  all,  one  by 
one,  and  down  to   the  last  of  them,  will 
perish  of   hunger   and  cold   around  their 

[29] 


*<•> 


THE    SWARM 

unfortunate    queen    rather  than  return  to 
the   home    of    their    birth    whose    sweet 
odour  of  plenty,  the  fragrance,  indeed,  of 
their  own  past  assiduous   labour^  re^h^^ 
them  even  in  their  distress. 


That   is  a  thing,  some  will  say,  that     :^ 
men  would  not   do,  —  a  proof   that   the 
bee,   notwithstanding   the   marvels  "of  its  ^  W 
organisation,   still  is   lacking   in   intellect     ^ 
and  veritable  consciousness.     Is   this    so 
certain?    Other  beings,  surely,  may  pos-      ,;•- 
sess   an  intellect  that   diflfers  from    ours, 
and    produces    diflferent   results,    without 
therefore  being  inferior.    And  besides,  are 
we,  even   in  this  little   human  parish  of 
ours,    such    infallible   judges    of    matters 
[  30] 


THE    SWARM 

that  pertain  to  the  spirit?  Can  we  so 
readily  divine  the  thoughts  that  may 
govern  the  two  or  three  people  we  may 
cha|ice  to  see  moving  and  talking  behind 
^.^a  closed  window,  when  their  words  do 
not  reach  us  ?  Or  let  us  suppose  that  an 
inhabitant  of  Venus  or  Mars  were  to  con- 
terogJi^v^  from  the  height  of  a  moun- 
[ifir  and  watch  the  little  black  specks 
ttat  we  form  in  space,  as  we  come  and 
in  the  streets  and  squares  of  our  towns. 
Would  the  mere  sight  of  our  movements, 
-"^^^^^ur  buildings,  machines,  and  canals,  convey 
^^0  him  any  precise  idea  of  our  morality, 
'^-^^  intellect,  our  manner  of  thinking,  and 
loving,  and  hoping,  — in  a  word,  of  our 
'  real  and  intimate  self?  All  he  could  do, 
like  ourselves  when  we  gaze  at  the  hive, 
[31] 


THE    SWARJA 

would  be  to  take  note  of  some  facts  that  i 
seem    very    surprising;    and    from    these 
facts    to     deduce     conclusions     probably  '^ 
no    less     erroneous,   no    less     uncertain,  • 
than     those    that    we    choose   to    form 
concerning  the  bee.  4..,,§^ 

This  much  at  least  is  certain;  our 
"little  black  specks"  would  not  reveal '~^^ 
the  vast  moral  direction,  the  wonderful 
unity,  that  are  so  apparent  in  the  hive. 
"Whither  do  they  tend,  and  what  is  it 
they  do  ?  "  he  would  ask,  after  years  and 
centuries  of  patient  watching.  "What  is 
the  aim  of  their  life,  or  its  pivot?  Do 
they  obey  some  God?  I  can  see  nothing 
that  governs  their  actions.  The  little 
things  that  one  day  they  appear  to  collect 
and  build  up,  the  next  they  destroy  and 
[32] 


THE    SWARM 

scatter.  They  come  and  they  go,  they 
meet   and    disperse,  but  one  knows    not 

^^  what   it    is    they    seek.     In    numberless 

cases     the     spectacle     they     present     is 

altogether   inexplicable.    There   are  some, 

P#for  instance,  who,  as  it  were,  seem 
scarcely  to  stir  from  their  place.  They 
are  to  be  distinguished  by  their  glossier 
iCoat,  and  often  too  by  their  more  con- 
siderable bulk.  They  occupy  buildings  ten 
;or  twenty  times  larger  than  ordinary 
dwellings,  and  richer,  and  more  ingen- 
iously fashioned.  Every  day  they  spend 
many  hours  at  their  meals,  which  some- 
times indeed  are  prolonged  far  into  the 
night.  They  appear  to  be  held  in  extra- 
ordinary honour  by  those  who  approach 
them ;  men  come  from  the  neighbouring 
3  [33] 


^^ 


?^- 


THE    SWARM 

houses,  bringing  provisions,  and  even 
from  the  depths  of  the  country,  laden 
with  presents.  One  can  only  assume 
that  these  persons  must  be  indispensable 
to  the  race,  to  which  they  render  essen- 
tial service,  although  our  means  of 
investigation  have  not  yet  enabled  us  to 
discover  what  the  precise  nature  of  this 
service  may  be.  There  are  others,  again, 
who  are  incessantly  engaged  in  the  most 
wearisome  labour,  whether  it  be  in  great 
sheds  full  of  wheels  that  forever  turn 
round  and  round,  or  close  by  the  ship- 
ping, or  in  obscure  hovels,  or  on  small 
plots  of  earth  that  from  sunrise  to  sunset 
they  are  constantly  delving  and  digging. 
We  are  led  to  believe  that  this  labour 
must  be  an  oflfence,  and  punishable.    For 


i/u' 


•/-■ 


'^^^'';\v,'e?' 


THE    SWARM 

the  persons  guilty  of  it  are  housed  in 
filthy,  ruinous,  squalid  cabins.  They  are 
clothed  in  some  colourless  hide.  So  great 
does  their  ardour  appear  for  this  noxious, 
or  at  any  rate  useless  activity,  that  they 
scarcely  allow  themselves  time  to  eat  or 
to  sleep.  In  numbers  they  are  to  the 
others  as  a  thousand  to  one.  It  is  re- 
markable that  the  species  should  have  been 
able  to  survive  to  this  day  under  conditions 
so  unfavourable  to  its  development.  It 
should  be  mentioned,  however,  that  apart 
from  this  characteristic  devotion  to  their 
wearisome  toil,  they  appear  inoffensive  and 
docile;  and  satisfied  with  the  leavings  of 
those  who  evidently  are  the  guardians,  if 
not  the  saviours,  of  the  race." 


THE    SWARM 

Is  it  not  strange  that  the  hive,  which 
we  vaguely  survey  from  the  height  of 
another  world,  should  provide  our  first 
questioning  glance  with  so  sure  and  pro- 
found a  reply?  Must  we  not  admire  the 
manner  in  which  the  thought  or  the  god 
that  the  bees  obey  is  at  once  revealed  by 
their  edifices,  wrought  with  such  striking 
conviction,  by  their  customs  and  laws, 
their  political  and  economical  organisation, 
their  virtues,  and  even  their  cruelties? 
Nor  is  this  god,  though  it  be  perhaps  the 
only  one  to  which  man  has  as  yet  never 
offered  serious  worship,  by  any  means  the 
least  reasonable  or  the  least  legitimate  that 
we  can  conceive.  The  god  of  the  bees 
is  the  future.  When  we,  in  our  study  of 
human  history,  endeavour  to  gauge  the 
[36] 


THE    SWARM 

moral  force  or  greatness  of  a  people  or 
race,  we  have  but  one  standard  of  meas- 
urement—  the  dignity  and  permanence  of 
their  ideal,  and  the  abnegation  wherewith 
they  pursue  it.  Have  we  often  encoun- 
tered an  ideal  more  conformable  to  the 
desires  of  the  universe,  more  widely  man- 
ifest, more  disinterested  or  sublime;  have 
we  often  discovered  an  abnegation  more 
complete  and  heroic? 


Strange  little  republic,  that,  for  all  its 
logic  and  gravity,  its  matured  conviction 
and  prudence,  still  falls  victim  to  so  vast 
and  precarious  a  dream!  Who  shall  tell 
us,  O  little  people  that  are  so  profoundly 
in  earnest,  that  have  fed  on  the  warmth 
[37] 


-^;? 


THE    SWARM 

and  the  light  and  on  nature's  purest,  the 
soul  of  the  flowers,  wherein  matter  for 
once  seems  to  smile,  and  put  forth  its 
most  wistful  effort  towards  beauty  2xm^ 
happiness,  —  who  shall  tell  us  what  prob- 
lems you  have  resolved,  but  we  not  yet, 
what  ceititudes  you  have  acquired  that 
we  still  have  to  conquer?  And  if  you 
have  truly  resolved  these  problems,  and 
acquired  these  certitudes,  by  the  aid 
of  some  blind  and  primitive  impulse  and 
not  through  the  intellect,  then  to  what  ^ 
enigma^  more  insoluble  still,  are  you  not 
urging  us  on?  Little  city  abounding  in 
faith  and  mystery  and  hope,  why  do  your 
i  myriad  virgins  consent  to  a  task  that  nod 

^y0     human  slave  has  ever  accepted  ?    Another  | 
^         spring  might  be  theirs,  another  summer,! 

^  [38]      ^:^^^ii 


^ 


THE    SWARM 

were  they  only  a  little   less   wasteful  of 

strength,  a  little  less  self-forgetful  in  their 

^;ardour  for  toil;  but   at   the    magnificent 

moment    when    the    flowers    all    cry   to 

them,  they  seem  to  be  stricken  with  the 

^^  fatal   ecstasy  of  work;  and  in  less  than 

^  five   weeks   they  almost   all    perish,  their 

wings  broken,  their  bodies  shrivelled  and 

covered  with  wounds. 

,"  Tantus  amor  florum,  et  generandi  gloria  mellis!  " 

cries  Virgil  in  the  fourth  book  of  the 
^^^^\,  Georgics,  wherein  he  devotes  himself  to 
^^^_r^ the  bees,  and  hands  down  to  us  the 
:^'r<^•'  Jl^rrning    errors    of    the    ancients,    who 

looked  on  nature  with  eyes  still  dazzled 
'  by  the  presence  of  imaginary  gods. 


[39] 


Vv  ^iiiii!l 


THE    SWARM    .^ 

Why  do  thev  thus  renounce  sleep 
delights  of  honey  and  love,  and  the 
exquisite  leisure  enjoyed,  for  instance, 
by  their  winged  brother,  the  butterfly? 
Why  will  they  not  live  as  he  lives?  It 
is  not  hunger  that  urges  them  on.  Two 
or  three  flowers  suffice  for  their  nourish- 
ment, and  in  one  hour  they  will  visit 
two  or  three  hundred,  to  collect  a  treas- 
ure whose  sweetness  they  never  will  taste. 
Why  all  this  toil  and  distress,  and 
whence  comes  this  mighty  assurance?  Is 
it  so  certain,  then,  that  the  new  genera- 
tion whereunto  you  offer  your  lives  will 
merit  the  sacrifice;  will  be  more  beauti- 
ful, happier,  will  do  something  you  have 
not  done?  Your  aim  is  clear  to  us, 
clearer  far  than   our  own ;    you  desire  to 

[40] 


1 


THE    SWARM 

live,  as  long  as  the  world  itself,  in 
those  that  come  after ;  but  what  can 
the  aim  be  of  this  great  aim;  what  the 
mission  of  this  existence  eternally 
renewed  ? 

"-  And  yet  may  it  not  be  that  these 
questions  are  idle,  and  we  who  are  put- 
ting them  to  you  mere  childish  dreamers, 
hedged  round  with  error  and  doubt? 
And,  indeed,  had  successive  evolutions 
installed  you  all-powerful  and  supremely 
happy;  had  you  gained  the  last  heights, 
whence  at  length  you  ruled  over  nature's 
laws;  nay,  were  you  immortal  goddesses, 
we  still  should  be  asking  you  what  your 
desires  might  be,  your  ideas  of  progress; 
still  wondering  where  you  imagined  that 
at  last  you  would  rest    and  declare  your 

[41] 


THE    SWARM 

wishes  fulfilled.  We  are  so  made  that 
nothing  contents  us;  that  we  can  regard 
no  single  thing  as  having  its  aim  self- 
contained,  as  simply  existing,  with  no 
thought  beyond  existence.  Has  there  been, 
to  this  day,  one  god  out  of  all  the  multi- 
f,:  tude  man  has  conceived,  from  the  vulgar- 
est  to  the  most  thoughtful,  of  whom  it 
has  not  been  required  that  he  shall 
be  active  and  stern,  that  he  shall  create 
countless  beings  and  things,  and  have 
myriad  aims  outside  himself?  And  will 
the  time  ever  come  when  we  shall  be 
resigned  for  a  few  hours  tranquilly  to 
represent  in  this  world  an  interesting 
form  of  material  activity;  and  then,  our 
few  hours  over,  to  assume,  without  sur- 
prise and  without  regret,  that  other  form 

[42] 


~i 


THE    SWARM 

which  is  the  unconscious,  the   unknown, 
the  slumbering,  and  the  eternal? 


^ 

^  ^ 
^ 


But  we  are  forgetting  the  hive  wherein 
the  swarming  bees  have  begun  to  lose 
patience,  the  hive  whose  black  and  vi- 
brating waves  are  bubbling  and  overflow- 
ing, like  a  brazen  cup  beneath  an  ardent 
sun.  It  is  noon ;  and  the  heat  so  great 
that  the  assembled  trees  would  seem  al- 
most to  hold  back  their  leaves,  as  a  man 
holds  his  breath  before  something  very 
tender  but  very  grave.  The  bees  give 
their  honey  and  sweet-smelling  wax  to 
the  man  who  attends  them;  but  more 
precious  gift  still  is  their  summoning  him 
to  the  gladness  of  June,  to  the  joy  of 
[43] 


THE    SWARM 

the  beautiful  months ;  for  events  in  which 
bees  take  part  happen  only  when  skies 
are  pure,  at  the  winsome  hours  of  the 
year  when  flowers  keep  holiday.  They 
are  the  soul  of  the  summer,  the  clock 
whose  dial  records  the  moments  of 
plenty;  they  are  the  untiring  wing  on  -^^^^^^ 
which  delicate  perfumes  float;  the  guide 
of  the  quivering  light-ray,  the  song  of 
the  slumberous,  languid  air;  and  their 
flight  is  the  token,  the  sure  and  me- 
lodious note,  of  all  the  myriad  fragile 
joys  that  are  born  in  the  heat  and 
dwell  in  the  sunshine.  They  teach  us 
to  tune  our  ear  to  the  softest,  most 
intimate  whisper  of  these  good,  natural 
hours.  To  him  who  has  known  them 
and  loved   them,   a  summer  where  there 

[44] 


THE    SWARM 

are  no  bees  becomes  as  sad  and  as  empty 
as  one  without  flowers  or  birds. 


f/S  The  man  who  never  before  has  beheld 

^      the  swarm  of   a  populous   hive  must   re- 
"'  ;;       gard    this    riotous,    bewildering   spectacle 
with  some    apprehension    and    diffidence. 
He  will  be  almost  afraid  to  draw  near ;  he 
will  wonder  can  these  be  the  earnest,  the 
peace-loving,    hard-working    bees    whose 
"movements  he  has  hitherto  followed?    It 
^     ^  was  but  a  few  moments  before    he  had 
-  ^    ;5een  them  troop  in  from  all  parts  of  the 
'*;'^^    country,  as  pre-occupied,  seemingly,  as  little 
housewives  might  be,  with  no  thoughts  be- 
yond household   cares.     He  had  watched 
them  stream  into  the  hive,  imperceptibly 

[45] 


t 


.«^\  ><? 


():^* 


'J/ 


THE    SWARM 

almost,  out  of  breath,  eager,  exhausted,  full 
of  discreet  agitation;  and  had  seen  the 
young  amazons  stationed  at  the  gate  salute 
them,  as  they  passed  by,  with  the  slightest 
wave  of  antenna.  And  then,  the  inner 
court  reached,  they  had  hurriedly  given 
their  harvest  of  honey  to  the  adolescent 
portresses  always  stationed  within,  exchang- 
ing with  these  at  most  the  thre^.^o^^oijir^ 
probably  indispensable  words ;  or  perhaps  V 
they  would  hasten  themselves  to  the  vast 
magazines  that  encircle  the  brood-cells,  and  •- 
deposit  the  two  heavy  baskets  of  pollen 
that  depend  from  their  thighs,  thereupon -at-."* 
once  going  forth  once  more,  without  giving 
a  thought  to  what  might  be  passing  in  the 
royal  palace,  the  work-rooms,  or  the  dormi- 
tory where  the  nymphs  lie  asleep;  without | 

[46] 


% 


/^ 


THE    SWARM 

for  one  instant  joining  in  the  babel  of  the 
public  place  in  front  of  the  gate,  where  it  is 
,^  the  wont  of  the  cleaners,  at  time  of  great 
heat,  to  congregate  and  to  gossip. 


-fo^ay  Msjs  all  changed.    A  certain 

number  of  workers,  it  is  true,  will  peace- 

^fully  go  to  the  fields,  as  though  nothing 

y  were    happening;    will    come    back,  clean 

the  hive,  attend  to  the    brood-cells,    and 

hold    altogether    aloof    from    the    general 

'^*^-^  ecstasy.    These  are  the  ones  that  will  not 

'  accompany   the   queen;   they  will  remain 

to     guard  the    old    home,  feed  the   nine 

or    ten     thousand     eggs,     the     eighteen 

^;"         thousand    larvae,    the    thirty-six    thousand 

nymphs    ao^    seven    or  eight    royal  prin- 

[47] 


UT  mLI^  MASiSfj 


^f4i-^^:i^ 


THE    SWAiR'r 

cesses,  that  to-day  shall  all  be  abandoned.  J 
Why  they  have  been  singled  out  for  this  . 
austere  duty,  by  what  law,  or  by  whom,  n^^ 
it  is  not  in    our    power   to    divine.     To 
this    mission    of   theirs    they    remain  in- 
flexibly, tranquilly  faithful;  and  though  I 
have  many  times  tried  the  experiment  of 
sprinkling  a  colouring  matter  over  one  of 
these  resigned  Cinderellas,  that  are  more 
over  easily  to  be  distinguished  in  the  midst       "^ 
of  the  rejoicing  crowds  by  their  serious  and 
somewhat  ponderous  gait,  it  is  rarely  indeed 
that  I  have  found    one  of   them  in    the 
delirious  throng  of  the  swarm. 


And    yet,    the    attraction    must    seem 
irresistible.    It  is  the   ecstasy  of  the  per- 

[  48  ] 


THE    SWARM 

haps  unconscious  sacrifice  the  god  has 
ordained;  it  is  the  festival  of  honey,  the 
triumph  of  the  race,  the  victory  of  the 
future:  the  one  day  of  joy,  of  forgetful- 
^ness  and  folly;  the  only  Sunday  known 
'mo  the  bees.  It  would  appear  to  be  also 
the  solitary  day  upon  which  all  eat  their 
fill,  and  revel,  to  heart's  content,  in  the 
delights  of  the  treasure  themselves  have 
amassed.  It  is  as  though  they  were 
prisoners  to  whom  freedom  at  last  had 
been  given,  who  had  suddenly  been  led 
to  a  land  of  refreshment  and  plenty. 
They  exult,  they  cannot  contain  the  joy 
that  is  in  them.  They  come  and  go  aim- 
lessly,—  they  whose  every  movement  has 
always  its  precise  and  useful  purpose  — 
they  depart  and  return,  sally  forth  once 
4  .  [  49  ] 


THE    SWARM 

again  to  see  if  the  queen  be  ready,  to 
excite  their  sisters,  to  beguile  the  tedium 
of  waiting.  They  fly  much  higher  than 
is  their  wont,  and  the  leaves  of  the 
mighty  trees  round  about  all  quiver  re- 
sponsive. They  have  left  trouble  behind, 
and  care.  They  no  longer  are  meddling 
and  fierce,  aggressive,  suspicious,  untam- 
able, angry.  Man  —  the  unknown  master 
whose  sway  they  never  acknowledge,  who 
can  subdue  them  only  by  conform- 
ing to  their  every  law,  to  their  habits 
of  labour,  and  following  step  by  step 
the  path  that  is  traced  in  their  life 
by  an  intellect  nothing  can  thwart 
or  turn  from  its  purpose,  by  a  spirit 
whose  aim  is  always  the  good  of  the 
morrow — on  this  day  man  can  approach 

[50] 


THE    SWARM 

them,  can  divide  the  glittering  curtain 
they  form  as  they  fly  round  and  round 
in  songful  circles ;  he  can  take  them 
up  in  his  hand,  and  gather  them  as  he 
would  a  bunch  of  grapes ;  for  to-day, 
in  their  gladness,  possessing  nothing,  but 
full  of  faith  in  the  future,  they  will  sub- 
mit to  everything  and  injure  no  one, 
provided  only  they  be  not  separated 
from  the  queen  who  bears  that  future 
within  her. 


^"^  But  the  veritable   signal   has  not   yet 

been    given.    In  the  hive  there   is   inde- 

'" ^^    scribable  confusion;  and  a  disorder  whose 

I^J^    meaning  escapes    us.    At    ordinary  times 

each   bee,    once   returned    to    her   home, 

[51] 


THE    SWARM 

would  appear  to  forget  her  possession  of 
wings ;  and  will  pursue  her  active  labours, 

^  making  scarcely  a  movement,  on  that  par- 

ticular spot  in  the  hive  that  her  special 
duties  assign.     But    to-day  they  all  seem 

-[,,  bewitched ;  they  fly  in  dense  circles  round 
and  round  the  polished  walls,  like  a  liv- 
ing jelly  stirred  by  an  invisible  hand.  The 
temperature  within  rises  rapidly,  —  to  such 
a  degree,  at  times,  that  the  wax  of  the 
^'^l  buildings   will  soften,  and    twist    out    of 

shape.    The  queen,  who   ordinarily  never   j-JI  -^^ 

■■■J  ^*''  ** 
,  f"'    will  stir  from    the  centre  of   the    comb,  ^^^^^^ 

''^-         now  rushes  wildly,  in   breathless    excite-  ^^^ 

r-  ment,   over  the  surface  of  the  vehement  ^>t 


crowd  that  turn  and  turn  on  themselves.  ^ 
Is  she  hastening  their  departure,  or  trying 
to  delay  it  ?    Does  she  command,  or  haply 

[52] 


THE    SWARM 

implore?    Does    this,  prodigious    emotion 

issue    from    her,    or    is    she    its    victim? 

0^     Such   knowledge    as   we   possess    of   the 

'^^-'<ii^     general   psychology  of   the    bee  warrants 

■0  ■ 
^0:^    the  belief  that  the  swarming  always  takes 

j0^#     place    against    the    old    sovereign's    will. 


'f/' 


\^''  .  For  indeed  the  ascetic  workers,  her 
"^.^u^"'  daughters,  regard  the  queen  above  all  as 
the  organ  of  love,  indispensable,  certainly, 
and  sacred,  but  in  herself  somewhat  un- 
conscious, and  often  of  feeble  mind. 
They  treat  her  like  a  mother  in  her  dotage. 
^    '  Their  respect  for  her,  their  tenderness,  is 

^  ^  heroic  and  boundless.  The  purest  honey, 
specially  distilled  and  almost  entirely 
assimilable,  is  reserved  for  her  use  alone. 
She  has  an  escort  that  watches  over  her 
by  day  and  by  night,  that  facilitates  her 
[  53  ] 


u. 
<"-^ 


THE    SWARM 

maternal  duties  and  gets  ready  the  cells 
wherein  the  eggs  shall  be  laid;  she  has 
loving  attendants  who  pet  and  caress  her^  V 
feed  her  and  clean  her,  and  even  absorb     > 
her  excrement.    Should  the  least  accident 
befall   her  the   news   will  spread  quickfy. 
from    group    to    group,    and    the   wholi 
population  will  rush  to  and  fro'  in  lou( 
lamentation.    Seize  her,  imprison  her,  take 
her  away  from  the  hive  at  a  time  when^  \Vv 
the  bees  shall  have  no  hope  of  filling  her 
place,  owing,  it  may  be,  to   her   having 
left    no    predestined    descendants,    or    to 
there  being  no  larvae  less  than  three  days 
old  (for  a  special   nourishment  is  capable 
of  transforming  these  into  royal  nymphs, 
such  being  the  grand  democratic  principle 
of  the  hive,  and   a   counterpoise  to    the 

[54]  ^^ll 


THE    SWARM 

prerogatives  of  maternal  predestination), 
and  then,  her  loss  once  known,  after  two 
,^^or  three  hours,  perhaps,  for  the  city  is 
vast,  work  will  cease  in  almost  every 
direction.  The  young  will  no  longer  be 
cared  for;  part  of  the  inhabitants  will 
wander  in  every  direction,  seeking  their 
mother,  in  quest  of  whom  others  will 
sally  forth  from  the  hive;  the  workers 
engaged  in  constructing  the  comb  will 
fall  asunder  and  scatter,  the  foragers  no 
longer  will  visit  the  flowers,  the  guard  at 
the  entrance  will  abandon  their  post; 
and  foreign  marauders,  all  the  parasites 
^^^T-Jioney,  forever  on  the  watch  for 
opportunities  of  plunder,  will  freely  enter 
and  leave  without  any  one  giving  a 
thought   to   the    defence   of   the  treasure 

[55]      , 


^^<s^:^^W'^^.^'' 


THE    SWARi^   ^ 

that  has  been  so  laboriously  gathered.^ 
And  poverty,  little  by  little,  will  steal 
into  the  city;  the  population  will  dwindle; 
and  the  wretched  inhabitants  soon  will 
perish  of  distress  and  despair,  though 
every  flower  of  summer  burst  into  bloom 
before  them.  "^ 

But  let  the  queen  be  restored   before 
her   loss    has    become   an    accomplished, 


^"^ 


fe^Wc;-.  -  irremediable   fact,   before    the    bees    have 

#  grown   too  profoundly  demoralised,  —  for 

in  this  they  resemble  men:  a  prolonged 

'^ft  ?  V    regret,   or    misfortune,   will    impair    their 

intellect  and  degrade  their  character,  —  let 

her   be   restored    but  a   few   hours  later, 

they  will   receive   her   with  extraordinary, 

pathetic  welcome.    They  will  flock  eagerly 

round  her ;  excited  groups  will  climb  over 

[56] 


THE    SWARM 

each  other  in  their  anxiety  to  draw  near; 
as  she  passes  among  them  they  will 
caress  her  with  the  long  antennae  that 
contain  so  many  organs  as  yet  unex- 
plained ;  they  will  present  her  with 
honey,  and  escort  her  tumultuously  back 
to  the  royal  chamber.  And  order  at 
once  is  restored,  work  resumed,  from 
the  central  comb  of  the  brood-cells  to 
the  furthest  annex  where  the  surplus 
honey  is  stored ;  the  foragers  go  forth, 
in  long  black  files,  to  return,  in  less 
than  three  minutes  sometimes,  laden 
with  nectar  and  pollen  ;  streets  are 
swept,  parasites  and  marauders  killed 
or  expelled  ;  and  the  hive  soon  re- 
sounds with  the  gentle,  monotonous  I!  f 
cadence  of  the  strange  hymn  of  rejoicing, 

[S7] 


'.,    i 


^^ 


THE    SWARM 
which  is,   it  would    seem,  the  hymn   of 
the  royal  presence. 


There  are  numberless  instances  of  the 
absolute  attachment  and  devotion  that  the 
workers  display  towards  their  queen. 
Should  disaster  befall  the  little  republic; 
should  the  hive  or  the  comb  collapse, 
should  man  prove  ignorant,  or  brutal ; 
should  they  suffer  from  famine,  from  cold 
or  disease,  and  perish  by  thousands,  it 
will  still  be  almost  invariably  found  that 
the  queen  will  be  safe  and  alive,  beneath 
the  corpses  of  her  faithful  daughters. 
For  they  will  protect  her,  help  her  to 
escape;  their  bodies  will  provide  both_- 
rampart  and  shelter;  for  her  will  be  the 

[58]    '^tr- 


THE    SWARM 

last  drop  of  hone}^  the  wholesomest  food. 
And  be  the  disaster  never  so  great,  the 
city  of  virgins  will  not  lose  heart  so 
long  as  the  queen  be  alive.  Break  their 
comb  twenty  times  in  succession,  take 
twenty  times  from  them  their  young 
and  their  food  you  still  shall  never 
succeed  in  making  them  doubt  of  the 
future;  and  though  they  be  starving, 
and  their  number  so  small  that  it  scarcely 
suffices  to  shield  their  mother  from 
the  enemy's  gaze,  they  will  set  about 
to  reorganize  the  laws  of  the  colony, 
and  to  provide  for  what  is  most  pressing; 
they  will  distribute  the  work  in  accord- 
ance with  the  new  necessities  of  this 
disastrous  moment,  and  thereupon  will 
immediately  re-assume  their  labours  with 

[59] 


THE    SWARM 

an  ardour,  a  patience,  a  tenacity  and 
intelligence  not  often  to  be  found  ex- 
isting to  such  a  degree  in  nature,  true 
though  it  be  that  most  of  its  crea- 
tures display  more  confidence  and  courage 
than  man. 

But  the  presence  of  the  queen  is  not 
even  essential  for  their  discouragement  to 
vanish   and   their  love   to   endure.    It  is 
enough  that  she  should  have  left,  at  the 
moment   of    her   death   or   departure,  the 
very    slenderest     hope     of     descendants.  „ 
"  We   have    seen  a   colony,"  says   Lang- 
stroth,  one  of  the  fathers  of  modern  api- 
culture,  '*that  had   not   bees  sufficient  to   ""i^^i 
cover  a  comb  of  three  inches  square,  and       '^  ^ 
yet    endeavoured    to    rear   a   queen.    For 
two  whole  weeks  did   they  cherish   this 
[60] 


_-        -if 


V 

,1'  -v  "^ 


THE    SWARM 

hope;  finally,  when  their  number  was 
reduced  by  one-half,  their  queen  was 
born,  but  her  wings  were  imperfect,  and 
she  was  unable  to  fly.  Impotent  as  she 
was,  her  bees  did  not  treat  her  with  the 
less  respect  A  week  more,  and  there  re- 
mained hardly  a  dozen  bees;  yet  a  few 
days,  and  the  queen  had  vanished,  leaving 
a  few  wretched,  inconsolable  insects  upon 
the  combs." 


^ 


There  is  another  instance,  and  one  that 
reveals  most  palpably  the  ultimate  gesture 
of  filial  love  and  devotion.  It  arises  from 
one  of  the  extraordinary  ordeals  that  our 

recent  and  tyrannical  intervention  inflicts 

on  these  hapless,  unflinching  heroines.    I, 
[61] 


a  J 


THE    SWARM 

in  common  with  all  amateur  bee-keepers, 
have   more   than    once    had    impregnated 
queens    sent    me    from    Italy ;    for    the 
Italian   species  is  more  prolific,    stronger, 
more  active,  and  gentler  than    our   own. 
It  is   the    custom    to   forward    them    in 
small,    perforated  boxes.    In    these   some 
food  is  placed,  and   the   queen   enclosed, 
together    with     a     certain     number    of 
workers,  selected  as  far  as  possible  froni\SW 
among  the  oldest  bees  in  the  hive.    (The_^" 
age  of  the  bee  can  be  readily  told  by  it^^^ 
body,    which    gradually     becomes     more  '  '"' 
polished,   thinner,  and   almost   bald ;  and 
more  particularly    by    the   wings,   which 
hard    work   uses  and   tears.)    It   is  their 
mission   to   feed   the    queen    during   th 
journey,    to    tend     her    and    guard    her 

[62] 


r 


THE     SWARM 

I  would    frequently   find,  when  the   box 

arrived,    that    nearly    every    one    of    the 

c-^  workers   was    dead.     On    one    occasion, 

indeed,  they  had  all  perished  of  hunger; 

^  but  in  this  instance  as  in  all  others  the 
queen  was  alive,  unharmed,  and  full  of 
vigour;  and  the  last  of  her  companions 
had  probably  passed  away  in  the  act  of 
presenting  the  last  drop  of  honey  she 
held  in  her  sac  to  the  queen,  who  was 

;   symbol    of   a   life    more    precious,    more 


)^^'       vast,   than   her   own. 

=1-       "-=^mjuM.-:;  * 


^*-?.'!' 
>>•<• 


ig  This  unwavering  affection  having  come 

under  the  notice  of  man,  he  was  able  to 

turn  to  his   own   advantage  the  qualities 

to  which  it  gives  rise,  or  that  it  perhaps 

[63] 


^Vw-v^  ^ 


MU^ 


THE    SWAR 

contains :  the  admirable  political  sense,  tHiT' 
passion  for  work,  the  perseverance,  mag- 
nanimity, and  devotion  to  the  futureXxV^^^ 
It  has  allowed  him,  in  the  course  of 
the  last  few  years,  to  a  certain  extent 
to  domesticate  these  intractable  insects, 
though  without  their  knowledge ;  for  they 
yield  to  no  foreign  strength,  and  in  their 
unconscious  servitude  obey  only  the  laws 
of  their  own  adoption.  Man  may  believe, 
if  he  choose,  that,  possessing  the  queen, 
he  holds  in  his  hand  the  destiny  and  soul 
of  the  hive.  In  accordance  with  the 
manner  in  which  he  deals  with  her — as 
it  were,  plays  with  her  — he  can  increase 
and  hasten  the  swarm  or  restrict  and  re- 
tard it;  he  can  unite  or  divide  colonies, 
and  direct  the  emigration  of  kingdoms. 
[64] 


THE    SWARM 

And  yet  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  the 
queen  is  essentially  merely  a  sort  of  liv- 
ing symbol,  standing,  as  all  symbols  must, 
for  a  vaster  although  less  perceptible 
principle;  and  this  principle  the  apiarist 
will  do  well  to  take  into  account,  if  he 
would  not  expose  himself  to  more  than 
one  unexpected  reverse.  For  the  bees  are 
by  no  means  deluded.  The  presence  of 
the  queen  does  not  blind  them  to  the 
existence  of  their  veritable  sovereign, 
immaterial  and  everlasting,  which  is  no 
other  than  their  fixed  idea.  Why  inquire 
as  to  whether  this  idea  be  conscious  or 
not  ?  Such  speculation  can  have  value 
only  if  our  anxiety  be  to  determine 
whether  we  should  more  rightly  admire 
the  bees  that  have  the  idea,  or  nature 
5  [65] 


THE    SWARM 

that  has  planted  it  in  them.  Wherever  it 
lodge,  in  the  vast  unknowable  body  or 
in  the  tiny  ones  that  we  see,  it  merits 
our  deepest  attention  ;  nor  may  it  be 
out  of  place  here  to  observe  that  it  is 
the  habit  we  have  of  subordinating  our 
wonder  to  accidents  of  origin  or  place, 
that  so  often  causes  us  to  lose  the  chance 
of  deep  admiration ;  which  of  all  things  in 
the  world  is  the  most  helpful  to  us. 


These  conjectures  may  pernaps  be  re- 
garded as  exceedingly  venturesome,  and 
possibly  also  as  unduly  human.  It  may 
be  urged  that  the  bees,  in  all  probability,  fep.:^ 
have  no  idea  of  the  kind ;  that  their  care  /f iig^^^^^^ 
for  the  future,  love  of  the  race,  and  many 
[66] 


THE    SWARM 

other  feelings  we  choose  to  ascribe  to 
them,  are  truly  no  more  than  forms  as- 
sumed by  the  necessities  of  life,  the  fear 
of  suffering  or  death,  and  the  attraction 
of  pleasure.  Let  it  be  so;  look  on  it  all 
as  a  figure  of  speech ;  it  is  a  matter  to 
which  I  attach  no  importance.  The  one 
thing  certain  here,  as  it  is  the  one  thing 
certain  in  all  other  cases,  is  that,  under 
special  circumstances,  the  bees  will  treat 
their  queen  in  a  special  manner.  The 
rest  is  all  mystery,  around  which  we  only 
can  weave  more  or  less  ingenious  and 
pleasant  conjecture.  And  yet,  were  we 
speaking  of  man  in  the  manner  wherein 
l.^^yr.i>j^.  were  wise  perhaps  to  speak  of  the  bee, 
is  there  very  much  more  we  could  say? 
He  too  yields  only  to  necessity,  the  at- 


^ 

^ 


^ 


THE    SWARM 

traction  of  pleasure,  and  the  fear  of 
suffering;  and  what  we  call  our  intellect 
has  the  same  origin  and  mission  as  what 
in  animals  we  choose  to  term  instinct. 
We  do  certain  things,  whose  results  we 
conceive  to  be  known  to  us ;  other  things 
happen,  and  we  flatter  ourselves  that  we 
are  better  equipped  than  animals  can  be 
to  divine  their  cause;  but,  apart  from 
the  fact  that  this  supposition  rests  on  no 
.f'  very  solid  foundation,  events  of  this 
nature  are  rare  and  infinitesimal,  compared 
with  the  vast  mass  of  others  that  elude 
comprehension;  and  all,  the  prettiest  and 
most  sublime,  the  best  known  and  the 
most  inexplicable,  the  nearest  and  most 
^-  ;  distant,    come    to    pass    in    a    night    so 

profound    that    our    blindness   may   well 
[  68  ] 


^/ 


v.-^' 


THE    SWARM 

be  almost  as    great   as  that  we  suppose 
in  the  bee. 


'?^,p&'^.^_^ 


\H. 


yj^' 


"All  must  agree,"  remarks  Buffon, 
who  has  a  somewhat  amusing  prejudice 
against  the  bee,  —  "all  must  agree  that 
these  flies,  individually  considered,  possess^jf^^;^ 
far  less  genius  than  the  dog,  the  monkey, 
or  the  majority  of  animals;  that  they 
display  far  less  docility,  attachment,  or 
sentiment ;  that  they  have,  in  a  word,  less 
qualities  that  relate  to  our  own ;  and  from 
that  we  may  conclude  that  their  apparent 
intelligence  derives  only  from  their  assem- 
bled multitude;  nor  does  this  union 
even  argue  intelligence,  for  it  is  governed 
by  no  moral  considerations,  it  being  with- 
[69] 


' .;  \ 


THE    SWARM 

out  their  consent  that  they   find  them 
selves   gathered    together.     This    society, 
therefore,  is  no  more  than  a  physical  as 
semblage   ordained   by  nature,  and  inde-^^^ 
pendent  either   of   knowledge,  or  reason 
or   aim.    The    mother-bee    produces   ten 
thousand   individuals  at   a  time,   and   in 
the  same  place;  these  ten  thousand  indi- 
viduals,   were    they    a    thousand     times 
stupider  than  I  suppose  them  to  be,  would 
be  compelled,  for   the   mere   purpose    of 
existence,    to    contrive     some    form     of 
arrangement ;  and,  assuming  that  they  had 
begun  by  injuring  each  other,  they  would, 
as  each  one  possesses  the  same  strength 
as  its  fellow,  soon   have   ended  by  doing 
each  other  the  least  possible  harm,  or,  in 
other     words,    by    rendering    assistance. 

[70] 


THE    SWARM 

They  have  the  appearance  of  understand- 
ing each  other,  and   of    working   for  a 
':^mmon  aim ;  and  the  observer,  therefore, 
is  apt  to  endow  them  with  reasons  and 
^..„,,  intellect  that  they  truly  are  far  from  pos- 
.    ^^essing.    He  will   pretend   to  account  for 
^       each  action,  show  a  reason  behind  every 
movement ;  and  from  thence  the  gradation 
/:is  easy  to  proclaiming  them   marvels,  or 
Wionsters,  of  innumerable  ideas.    Whereas 
i|he  truth  is  that  these  ten  thousand  in- 
dividuals, that   have   been  produced  sim- 
ultaneously, that  have  lived  together,  and 
undergone  metamorphosis  at  more  or  less 
the  same   time,  cannot  fail  all  to  do  the 
same  thing,  and  are  compelled,  however 
slight    the    sentiment    within   them,    to 
adopt  common   habits,  to  live  in  accord 
[  71] 


w;, 


•^1 


THE    SWARM 

and  union,  to  busy  themselves  with  their^ 
dwelling,  to  return  to  it  after  their  jour- 
neys, etc.,  etc.  And  on  this  foundation 
arise  the  architecture,  the  geometry,  the 
order,  the  foresight,  love  of  country,  —  in 
a  word,  the  republic ;  all  springing,  as  we 
have  seen,  from  the  admiration  of  the 
observer."  ^%: 

There  we  have  our  bees  explained  in  a 
very  different  fashion.  And  if  it  seem 
more  natural  at  first,  is  it  not  for  the  very 
simple  reason  that  it  really  explains  al- 
:  limost  nothing?  I  will  not  allude  to  the 
material  errors  this  chapter  contains;  I 
will  only  ask  whether  the  mere  fact  of 
the  bees  accepting  a  common  existence, 
while  doing  each  other  the  least  possible 
harm,  does  not   in    itself  argue  a  certain 

[72] 


THE    SWARM 

intelligence.  And  does  not  this  intelli- 
gence appear  the  more  remarkable  to  us 
as  we  more  closely  examine  the  fashion 
in  which  these  "ten  thousand  individ- 
uals" avoid  hurting  each  other,  and  end 
by  giving  assistance?  And  further,  is 
this  not  the  history  of  ourselves;  and 
does  not  all  that  the  angry  old  naturalist 
says  apply  equally  to  every  one  of  our 
human  societies?  And  yet  once  again: 
if  the  bee  is  indeed  to  be  credited  with 
none  of  the  feelings  or  ideas  that  we 
have  ascribed  to  it,  shall  we  not  very 
willingly  shift  the  ground  of  our  wonder  ? 
If  we  must  not  admire  the  bee,  we 
will  then  admire  nature;  the  moment 
must  always  come  when  admiration  can 
be  no  longer  denied  us,  nor  shall  there 
[73] 


THE    SWARM 

be  loss  to  us  through  our  having  retreated, 
or  waited. 


^% 


However   these   things    may   be,    and 
without   abandoning    this    conjecture    of 
ours,  that  at  least  has  the  advantage  of 
connecting   in  our  mind    certain    actions 
that  have  evident  connection  in  fact,  it  is 
certain  that  the  bees  have  far  less  adora- 
tion  for  the  queen  herself   than  for  the 
infinite  future  of  the  race  that  she  repre- 
sents.   They   are   not    sentimental;    and 
should  one  of  their  number  return  from 
work  so  severely  wounded  as  to  be  held 
incapable  of  further  service,  they  will  ruth-^    ;;^. 
lessly  expel  her  from  the  hive.    And  yet^ ''^^ 
it  cannot  be  said  that  they  are  altogether  ^^ 
[  74  ]  >i ' 


THE    SWARM 

incapable  of  a  kind  of  personal  attachment 
towards  their  mother.  They  will  recognise 
her  from  among  all.  Even  when  she  is 
old,  crippled,  and  wretched,  the  sentinels 
at  the  door  will  never  allow  another  queen 
to  enter  the  hive,  though  she  be  young 
and  fruitful.  It  is  true  that  this  is  one  of 
the  fundamental  principles  of  their  polity, 
and  never  relaxed  except  at  times  of 
abundant  honey,  in  favour  of  some  for- 
eign worker  who  shall  be  well  laden  with 
food. 

When  the  queen  has  become  com- 
pletely sterile,  the  bees  will  rear  a  certain 
number  of  royal  princesses  to  fill  her 
place.  But  what  becomes  of  the  old 
sovereign  ?  As  to  this  we  have  no  pre- 
cise knowledge;  but  it  has  happened,  at 

[75] 


THE    SWARM 

times,  that  apiarists  have  found  a  mag- 
nificent queen,  in  the  flower  of  her  age, 
on  the  central  comb  of  the  hive;  and  in 
some  obscure  corner,  right  at  the  back, 
the  gaunt,  decrepit  "  old  mistress,"  as 
they  call  her  in  Normandy.  In  such  cases 
it  would  seem  that  the  bees  have  to  ex- 
ercise the  greatest  care  to  protect  her 
from  the  hatred  of  the  vigorous  rival 
who  longs  for  her  death ;  for  queen  hates 
queen  so  fiercely  that  two  who  might 
happen  to  be  under  the  same  roof  would 
immediately  fly  at  each  other.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  believe  that  the  bees  are 
thus  providing  their  ancient  sovereign 
with  a  humble  shelter  in  a  remote  corner 
of  the  city,  where  she  may  end  her  days 
in  peace.    Here   again   we  touch  one  of 


/ 


THE    SWARM 

the  thousand  enigmas  of  the  waxen  city; 
and  it  is  once  more  proved  to  us  that 
the  habits  and  the  policy  of  the  bees  are 
by  no  means  narrow,  or  rigidly  predeter- 

^^  mined ;  and  that  their  actions  have  motives 
far  more  complex  than  we  are  inclined  to 

,,,,.,^,„^, suppose  ^:v-    -o.  ■  ^^^'^     ^.^  ^  pf   \  m 


But  we  are  constantly  tampering  with 
what  they  must  regard  as  immovable  laws 
of  nature;  constantly  placing  the  bees  in 
a  position  that  may  be  compared  to  that 
.  >v  in  which  we  should  ourselves  be  placed 
^^  were  the  laws  of  space  and  gravity,  of 
light  and  heat,  to  be  suddenly  suppressed 
around  us.  What  are  the  bees  to  do 
when  we,  by  force  or  by  fraud,  introduce 

[77] 


e; 


THE    SWARM 

a  second  queen  into  the  city?  It  is 
probable  that,  in  a  state  of  nature,  thanks 
to  the  sentinels  at  the  gate,  such  an  event 

has  never  occurred   since  they  first  came  .i/ 

•:/■■' 

into  the  world.    But  this  prodigious  con;-^ 
juncture  does  not  scatter  their  wits ;  they 
still  contrive  to  reconcile  the  two  princi^^ 
pies  that   they  appear  to  regard   in    the-,-^ 
light  of  divine   commands.     The   first  is 
that  of  unique  maternity,  never  infringe 
except    in    the    case    of    sterility   in  the   _^ 
reigning  queen,  and  even  then  only  very    ^ 
exceptionally;  the  second  is  more  curiou^^.^l''' 
still,    and,    although    never    transgressed, 
susceptible  of  what  may  almost  be  termed 
a  Judaic  evasion.    It  is  the  law  that  in- 
vests the  person  of  a  queen,  whoever  she 
be,  with  a  sort  of  inviolability.    It  would 
L7S2 


\f 


THE    SWARM 

be  a  simple  matter  for  the  bees  to  pierce 

the  intruder  with  their  myriad  envenomed 

>  4^  stings ;   she  would  die  on  the  spot,  and 

'  ^^  they  would  merely  have  to    remove   the 

{^  corpse   from  the  hive.    But  though  this 

^^^  sting  is  always  held  ready  to  strike,  though 

)  they  make  constant    use    of   it    in    their 

fights'  among    themselves,  they  will  never 

^^.^  draw  it  against  a  queen;  nor  will  a  queen 

I    (  (ever  draw  hers  on  a  man,  an  animal,  or 

^^  V  an  ordinary  bee.    She  will  never  unsheath 

^.^--— her  royal   weapon  —  curved,  in    scimeter 

£;.  v^   fashion,    instead  of    being    straight,    like 

^^_7;^^^^f  the  ordinary  bee — save  only  in 

r-/-7^  *^^  case  of  her  doing  battle  with  an  equal : 

in  other  words,  with  a  sister  queen. 

No  bee,  it  would  seem,  dare  take  on 

^^"      herself  the  horror   of  direct    and   bloody 

[79] 


m 


THE    SWARM    "^;^p 

regicide.  Whenever,  therefore,  the  good 
order  and  prosperity  of  the  republic  ap- 
pear to  demand  that  a  queen  shall  die, 
they  endeavour  to  give  to  her  death  some 
semblance  of  natural  decease,  and  by  infi- 
nite subdivision  of  the  crime,  to  render  it 
almost  anonymous.     ----  "^"'^^''^^^^.^ 

They  will,  therefore,  to  use  the^  pictur- 
esque expression  of  the  apiarist,  "  ball "' 
the  queenly  intruder;  in  other  words, 
they  will  entirely  surround  her  with  their 
innumerable  interlaced  bodies.  They  will 
thus  form  a  sort  of  living  prison  wherein 
the  captive  is  unable  to  move;  and  in 
this  prison  they  will  keep  her  for  twenty- 
four  hours,  if  need  be,  till  the  victim  die 
of  suffocation  or  hunger. 

But  if,  at  this  moment,  the  legitimate 

[80] 


ii 


THE    SWARM 

queen  draw  near,  and,  scenting  a  rival, 
appear  disposed  to  attack  her,  the  living 
walls  of  the  prison  will  at  once  fly  open ; 
and  the  bees,  forming  a  circle  around  the 
two  enemies,  will  eagerly  watch  the 
f  strange  duel  that  will  ensue,  though  re- 
maining strictly  impartial,  and  taking  no 
^,;  share  in  it.    For  it  is  written  that  against 


mm 

a  mother  the   sting  may  be   drawn  by  a 

mother  alone;  only  she  who  bears  in  her 
flanks  close  on  two  million  lives  appears 
to  possess  the  right  with  one  blow  to 
inflict  close  dn"  two  million  deaths. 

But  if  the  combat  lasts  too  long,  with- 
out any  result,  if  the  circular  weapons 
glide  harmlessly  over  the  heavy  cuirasses, 
if  one  of  the  queens  appear  anxious  to 
make  her  escape^  then,  be  she  the  legiti- 

■^:8l  ] 


^ 


THE    SWARM 

mate  sovereign  or  be  she  the  stranger,  she 
will  at  once  be  seized  and  lodged  in  the 
living  prison  until  such  time  as  she  mani- 
fest once  more  the  desire  to  attack  her 
foe.  It  is  right  to  add,  however,  that  the 
numerous  experiments  that  have  been 
made  on  this  subject  have  almost  invari- 
ably resulted  in  the  victory  of  the  reign- 
ing queen,  owing  perhaps  to  the  extra 
courage  and  ardour  she  derives  from  the 
knowledge  that  she  is  at  home,  with  her 
subjects  around  her,  or  to  the  fact  that 
the  bees,  however  impartial  while  the 
fight  is  in  progress,  may  possibly  display 
some  favouritism  in  their  manner  of  im- 
prisoning the  rivals;  for  their  mother 
would  seem  scarcely  to  suffer  from  the 
confinement,  whereas  the  stranger  almost 

[82] 


ut'Xi 


THE    SWARM 

always  emerges   in  an  appreciably  bruised 
and  enfeebled  condition. 


There  is  one  simple  experiment  which 
proves  the  readiness  with  which  the  bees 
will  recognise  their  queen,  and  the  depth 
of  the  attachment  they  bear  her.  Re- 
move her  from  the  hive,  and  there  will 
soon  be  manifest  all  the  phenomena  of 
anguish  and  distress  that  I  have  described 
in  a  preceding  chapter.  Replace  her,  a 
few  hours  later,  and  all  her  daughters  will 
hasten  towards  her  oflFering  honey.  One 
section  will  form  a  lane,  for  her  to  pass 
through;  others,  with  head  bent  low  and 
abdomen  high  in  the  air,  will  describe 
before  her  great  semicircles  throbbing 
[83] 


THE    SWARM 

with  sound ;  hymning,  doubtless,  the  chant 
of  welcome  their  rites  dictate  for  moments 
of  supreme  happiness  or  solemn  respect. 

But  let  it  not  be  imagined  that  a  for- 
eign queen  may  with  impunity  be  sub- 
stituted for  the  legitimate  mother.  The 
bees  will  at  once  detect  the  imposture; 
the  intruder  will  be  seized,  and  immedi- 
ately enclosed  in  the  terrible,  tumultu- 
ous prison,  whose  obstinate  walls  will  ^ 
be  relieved,  as  it  were,  till  she  dies; 
for  in  this  particular  instance  it  hardly 
ever  occurs  that  the  stranger  emerges 
alive.  ^    -X^  ^  *•  ZZ- 

And  here    it  is   curious    to    note    t^*^;;^ 


what   diplomacy  and    elaborate  stratagem 
C  man   is   compelled   to  resort  in   order  to^^ 

delude   these  little  sagacious  insects,  and 
[84]  .:^.^,  * 


-4 


V 


THE    SWARM 

bend  them  to  his  will.  In  their  unswerv- 
ing loyalty,  they  will  accept  the  most  un- 
expected events  with  touching  courage, 
regarding  them  probably  as  some  new  and 
inevitable  fatal  caprice  of  nature.  And, 
indeed,  all  this  diplomacy  notwithstanding, 
in  the  desperate  confusion  that  may  follow 
one  of  these  hazardous  expedients,  it  is 
on  the  admirable  good  sense  of  the  bee 
that  man  always,  and  almost  empirically, 
relies ;  on  the  inexhaustible  treasure  of 
their  marvellous  laws  and  customs,  on 
their  love  of  peace  and  order,  their  devo- 
tion to  the  public  weal,  and  fidelity  to 
the  future;  on  the  adroit  strength,  the 
earnest  disinterestedness,  of  their  character, 
and,  above  all,  on  the  untiring  devotion 
with  which  they  fulfil  their  duty.  But 
[85] 


THE    SWARM 

the  enumeration  of  such  procedures 
belongs  rather  to  technical  treatises  on 
apiculture,  and  would  take  us  too  far.* 

V   .v  _____ 

^  The  stranger  queen  is  usually  brought  into  the     f( 
hive  enclosed  in  a  little  cage,  with  iron  wires,  which  is 
hung  between  two  combs.    The  cage  has  a  door  made 
of  wax  and  honey,  which  the  workers,  their  anger 
over,  proceed  to  gnaw,  thus  freeing  the  prisoner, 
whom  they  will  often  receive  without  any  ill-will. 
Mr.  Simmins,  manager  of  the  great  apiary  at  Rotting-     ^ 
dean,  has  recently  discovered  another  method  of  intro- 
ducing a  queen,  which,  being  extremely  simple  and      -  >.. 
almost  invariably  successful,  bids  fair  to  be  generally     •  f ^ 
adopted  by  apiarists  who  value  their  art.    It  is  the 
behaviour  of  the  queen  that  usually  makes  her  intro- 
duction a  matter  of  so  great  difficulty.    She  is  almost 
distracted,  flies  to  and  fro,  hides,  and  generally  com- 
forts herself  as  an  intruder,  thus  arousing  the  suspicions 
of  the  bees,  which  are  soon  confirmed  by  the  workers' 
examination.    Mr.  Simmins  at  first  completely  isolates 


■^^"a^vv  ^ 


THE    SWARM 

As  regards  this   personal   aflfection   of 
which  we  have  spoken,  there  is  one  word 

the  queen  he  intends  to  introduce,  and  lets  her  fast  for 

half  an  hour.    He  then  lifts  a  comer  of  the  inner 

er  of  the  orphaned  hive,  and  places  the  strange 

^een  on  the  top  of  one  of  the  combs.    Her  former 

isolation  having  terrified  her,  she  is  delighted  to  find 

herself  in  the  midst  of  the  bees ;  and  being  famished 

^         she  eagerly  accepts  the  food  they  offer  her.    The 

workers,  deceived  by  her  assurance,  do  not  examine 

her,  but  probably  imagine  that  their  old  queen  has  re- 

xih    turned,  and  welcome  her  joyfully.    It  would  seem, 

^^^^^^     therefore,  that,  contrary  to  the  opinion  of  Huber  and 

^^^^     all  other  investigators,  the  bees  are  not  capable  of 

^^^^.xrecognising  their  queen.    In  any  event,  the  two  ex- 

^~j -     planations,  which  are  both  equally  plausible — though 

^^^^^    the  truth  may  lurk,  perhaps,  in  a  third,  that  is  not  yet 

'^'^  "    known  to  us  —  only  prove  once  again  how  complex 

and  obscure  is  the  psychology  of  the  bee.    And  from 

\         this,  as  from  all  questions  that  deal  with  life,  we  can 

draw  one  conclusion  only:  that,  till  better  obtain, 

curiosity  still  must  rule  in  our  heart. 

[87] 


THE    SW4R,M 

more  to  be  said.  That  such 
exists  is  certain,  but  it  is  certain  also  that 
its  memory  is  exceedingly  short-lived.- 
Dare  to  replace  in  her  kingdom  a  mother 
whose  exile  has  lasted  some  days,  and 
her  indignant  daughters  will  receive  her 
in  such  a  fashion  as  to  compel  you  hastily 
to  snatch  her  from  the  deadly  imprison- 
ment reserved  for  unknown  queens.  For 
the  bees  have  had  time  to  transform  a 
dozen  workers'  habitations  into  royal  cells, 
and  the  future  of  the  race  is  no  longer 
in  danger.  Their  affection  will  increase, 
or  dwindle,  in  the  degree  that  the  queen 
represents  the  future.  Thus  we  often 
find,  when  a  virgin  queen  is  performing 
the  perilous  ceremony  known  as  the 
"  nuptial  flight,"   of    which  I  will    speak 

[88] 


^'•^*'.1cr 


THE    SWARM 

later,  that  her  subjects  are  so  fearful  of 
losing  her  that  they  will  all  accompany 
her  on  this  tragic  and  distant  quest  of 
love.  This  they  will  never  do,  however, 
if  they  be  provided  with  a  fragment  of 
comb  containing  brood-cells,  whence  they 
shall  be  able  to  rear  other  queens. 
Indeed,  their  affection  even  may  turn 
into  fury  and  hatred  should  their  sov- 
ereign fail  in  her  duty  to  that  sort 
of  abstract  divinity  that  we  should 
call  future  society,  which  the  bees  would 
appear  to  regard  far  more  seriously 
than  we.  It  happens,  for  instance,  at 
times,  that  apiarists  for  various  reasons 
will  prevent  the  queen  from  joining  a 
swarm  by  inserting  a  trellis  into  the 
hive;  the  nimble  and  slender  workers 
[89] 


THE    SWARM 

will  flit  through  it,  unpereeiving,  but  to 
the  poor  slave  of  love,  heavier  and  more 
corpulent  than  her  daughters,  it  offers 
an  impassable  barrier.  The  bees,  when 
they  find  that  the  queen  has  not  fol- 
lowed, will  return  to  the  hive,  and  scold 
the  unfortunate  prisoner,  hustle  and 
ill-treat  her,  accusing  her  of  laziness, 
probably,  or  suspecting  her  of  feeble 
mind.  On  their  second  departure,  when 
they  find  that  she  still  has  not  fol- 
lowed, her  ill-faith  becomes  evident  to 
them,  and  their  attacks  grow  more 
serious.  And  finally,  when  they  shall 
have  gone  forth  once  more,  and  stilP"""^ 
with  the  same  result,  they  will  almost  , 
always  condemn  her,  as  being  irremedi^^ 
ably  faithless  to   her  destiny  and  to   this ^2; 

[90] 


THE    SWARM 

future    of    the    race,    and   put   her    to 
death    in    the   royal    prison. 


It  is  to  the  future,  therefore,  that  the 
bees  subordinate  all  things;  and  with  a 
foresight,  a  harmonious  co-operation,  a 
skill  in  interpreting  events  and  turning 
them  to  the  best  advantage,  that  must 
compel  our  heartiest  admiration,  particu- 
larly when  we  remember  in  how  startling 
and  supernatural  a  light  our  recent  inter- 
vention must  present  itself  to  them.  It 
may  be  said,  perhaps,  that  in  the  last 
instance  we  have  given,  they  place  a  very 
false  construction  upon  the  queen's  ina- 
bility to  follow  them.  But  would  our 
powers  of  discernment  be  so  very  much 
[91] 


^.fe- 


'^      THE    SWARM 

subtler,  if  an  intelligence  of  an  order  en- 
tirely different  from  our  own,  and  served 
by  a  body  so  colossal  that  its  movements 
were  almost  as  imperceptible  as  those  of 
a  natural  phenomenon,  were  to  divert  it- 
self by  laying  traps  of  this  kind  for  us? 
Has  it  not  taken   us   thousands  of   years 
to  invent  a  sufficiently  plausible   explana- 
tion  for    the    thunderbolt?     There   is    a 
certain  feebleness   that  overwhelms  every  ^ 
-"       intellect  the  moment  it  emerges  from   its:"^  \ 
'^      own  sphere,  and  is  brought  face  to  face  j*^-*^^ 
with   events    not   of    its  own    initiation.    ^'^^ 
And,  besides,  it    is   quite   possible  that  if 
this  ordeal  of   the  trellis    were  to   obtain  ^^. 
more  regularly  and   generally   among  the^xJ^' 
bees,  they  would   end  by    detecting   the  ^rc 
pitfall,  and   by  taking  steps  to  elude  it,   ^ 

[92] 


THE    SWARM 

They  have  mastered  the  intricacies  of  the 
movable  comb,  of  the  sections  that  com- 
pel them  to  store  their  surplus  honey  in 
little  boxes  symmetrically  piled;  and  in 
the  case  of  the  still  more  extraordinary 
innovation  of  foundation  wax,  where  the 
cells  are  indicated  only  by  a  slender  cir- 
cumference of  wax,  they  are  able  at  once  ^  ^^ 
to  grasp  the  advantages  this  new  system  ^•"^^'^^'' 
presents;  they  most  carefully  extend  the 
wax,  and  thus,  without  loss  of  time  or 
labour,  construct  perfect  cells.  So  long  as 
the  event  that  confronts  them  appear  not 
a  snare  devised  by  some  cunning  and 
malicious  god,  the  bees  may  be  trusted 
always  to  discover  the  best,  nay,  the  only 
human,  solution.  Let  me  cite  an  in- 
stance; an  event,  that,  though  occurring 
[93] 


'%' 


THE    SWARM 

in  nature,  is   still  in   itself  wholly  abnor- 
mal.   I  refer  to  the  manner  in  which  the 
bees  will  dispose  of  a  mouse  or  a  slug    . 
that   may  happen  to  have   found  its  way^^^ 
into  the  hive.    The  intruder  killed,   they\ 
have  to   deal  with  the  body,  which  will 
very  soon  poison  their  dwelling.    If  it  be 
impossible   for   them    to    expell    or   dis-    ^^ 
member  it,  they  will  proceed  methodically 
and  hermetically  to  enclose  it  in  a  verii 
able  sepulchre  of  propolis  and  wax,  which     ^ 
will  tower  fantastically  above  the  ordinary    ^ 
monuments  of  the  city.    In   one  of  my 
hives  last  year  I    discovered   three  such:--"'"'^ 
tombs  side    by  side,  erected  with^j^|rty- 
walls,  like  the  cells  of   the  comb,  so  that    tj^. 
no  wax  should  be  wasted.    These  tombs 
the  prudent  grave-diggers  had  raised  over 

[94]  ^; 


THE    SWARM 

the  remains  of  three  snails  that  a  child 
had  introduced  into  the  hive.  As  a  rule, 
§  when  dealing  with  snails,  they  will  be 
content  to  seal  up  with  wax  the  orifice 
i^oi  the  shell.  But  in  this  case  the  shells 
Were  mor^.  gr^  less  cracked  and  broken ; 
and  they  had  considered  it  simpler,  there- 
fore, to  bury  the  entire  snail;  and  had 
further  contrived,  in  order  that  circulation 
the  entrance-hall  might  not  be  impeded, 
number  of  galleries  exactly  proportion- 
ate, not  to  their  own  girth,  but  to  that 
^^^^-^-"•'^...of  the  males,  which  are  almost  twice  as 
^^=---large  as  themselves.  Does  not  this  in- 
'^^''  stance,  and  the  one  that  follows,  warrant 
our  believing  that  they  would  in  time 
^  discover  the  cause  of  the  queen's  inability 

^     '"    to  follow  them  through  the  trellis?    They 

[95] 


-~L 


THE    SWARM 

have  a  very  nice  sense  of  proportion, 
and  of  the  space  required  for  thb 
movement  of  bodies.  In  the  regions^S^! 
where  the  hideous  death's-head  sphinx, 
the  acherontia  atropos^  abounds,  they 
construct  little  pillars  of  wax  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  hive,  so  restricting  the 
dimension  as  to  prevent  the  passage  ^the 


nocturnal  marauder's  enormous  abdomen 


jC^ 


Ml/' 


But  enough  on  this  point;  were  I  to 
cite  every  instance  I  should  never  have 
done.  To  return  to  the  queen,  whose 
position  in  the  hive,  and  the  part  that 
she  plays  therein,  we  shall  most  fitly 
describe  by  declaring  her  to  be  the  cap- 


tive heart   of   the    city,  and    the    centre 


r 


[96] 


THE    SWARM 

around  which  its  intelligence  revolves. 
Unique  sovereign  though  she  be,  she  is 
also  the  royal  servant,  the  responsible 
delegate  of  love,  and  its  captive  custo- 
dian. Her  people  serve  her  and  venerate 
her;  but  they  never  forget  that  it  is  not 
to  her  person  that  their  homage  is  given, 
but  to  the  mission  that  she  fulfils,  and 
the  destiny  she  represents.  It  would  not 
be  easy  for  us  to  find  a  human  republic 
whose  scheme  comprised  more  of  the 
desires  of  our  planet;  or  a  democracy 
that  offered  an  independence  more  perfect 
and  rational,  combined  with  a  submission 
more  logical  and  more  complete.  And 
nowhere,  surely,  should  we  discover  mOrp 
painful  and  absolute  sacrifice.  Let  it  not  |  ^ 
be  imagined  that  I  admire  this  sacrifice  to 


# 


THE    SWARM 

the  extent  that  I  admire  its  results.  It 
were  evidently  to  be  desired  that  these 
results  might  be  obtained  at  the  cost  of 
less  renouncement  and  suffering.  But, 
the  principle  once  accepted,  —  and  this  is 
needful,  perhaps,  in  the  scheme  of  our 
globe,  —  its  organisation  compels  our 
wonder.  Whatever  the  human  truth  on 
this  point  may  be,  life,  in  the  hive,  is  not 
looked  on  as  a  series  of  more  or  less 
pleasant  hours,  whereof  it  is  wise  that 
those  moments  only  should  be  soured 
and  embittered  that  are  essential  for  main- 
taining existence.  The  bees  regard  it  as 
a  great  common  duty,  impartially  distrib- 
uted amongst  them  all,  and  tending 
towards  a  future  that  goes  further  and 
further  back  ever  since  the  world  began. 
[98] 


THE    SWARM 

And,  for  the  sake  of  this  future,  each  one 
renounces  more  than  half  of  her  rights 
and  her  joys.  The  queen  bids  farewell  to 
freedom,  the  light  of  day,  and  the  calyx 
of  flowers;  the  workers  give  five  or  six 
years  of  their  life,  and  shall  never  know 
love,  or  the  joys  of  maternity.  The 
queen's  brain  turns  to  pulp,  that  the  re- 
productive organs  may  profit;  in  the 
workers  these  organs  atrophy,  to  the  ben- 
efit of  their  intelligence.  Nor  would  it  be 
fair  to  allege  that  the  will  plays  no  part 
in  all  these  renouncements.  We  have 
seen  that  each  worker's  larva  can  be 
transformed  into  a  queen  if  lodged  and 
rs).ied  on  the  royal  plan ;  and  similarly  could 
^  each  royal  larva  be  turned  into  worker  if 
her  food  were  changed  and  her  cell  re- 

_[99] 


^^g^^»»itt«itnf^  I  :;;••; 


THE    SWARM 

^'^  ^  duced.     These  mysterious   elections    take 
I)  place  every  day  in  the  golden    shade   of 

'     /"^  the    hive.    It  is  not  chance  that  controls 

them,  but  a  wisdom  whose   deep  loyalty, 

^M  gravity,  and  unsleeping  watchfulness  man 

^Jl       alone  can   betray:  a   wisdom  that  makes 

fc  I      and    unmakes,    and    keeps    careful   watch 
over  all  that  happens  within  and  without 
the  city.    If  sudden   flowers   abound,   or 
the  queen  grow  old,  or  less  fruitful;   if     " 
population    increase,  and    be    pressed   for 
room,  you  then  shall  find   that  the  bees    j^l 
will  proceed  to  rear  royal  cells.    Butthese^^^ 
cells  may  be  destroyed  if  the  harvest  fail;  ;^^" 
or  the  hive  be  enlarged.    Often  they  will/^'i:>^ 

^z""  be  retained  so  long  as  the  young  queen'  ":  "^ 

g^  have  not  accomplished,  or  succeeded  in^,;:    . 

^^-'-  .  "^     '^ 

her  marriage  flight,  —  to  be  at  once  anni- 

[  100  ]  < 


0  ^ 


"# 


THE    SWARM 

hilated  when   she  returns,  trailing  behind 
her,  trophywise,  the  infallible  sign  of  her 


^^1    impregnation.    Who  shall  say  where  the  | 
r'    J?   wisdom    resides    that   can    thus    balance 


present  and  future,  and  prefer  what  is  not 


j^^^P^  yet  visible  to  that  which  already  is  seen  ? 
'^t^'^^v  Where  the  anonymous  prudence  tha|- 
.1*.:*'^'        selects  and  abandons,  raises   and  lowers'f. 


that  of  so  many  workers  makes  so  many   'J- 

'J 

queens,  and  of  so  many  mothers  can  make 
a  people  of  virgins?  We  have  said  else- 
where that  it  lodged  in  the  "Spirit  of 
the  Hive,''  but  where  shall  this  spirit  of 
the  hive  be  looked  for  if  not  in  the 
assembly  of  workers?  To  be  convinced 
of  its  residence  there,  we  need  not  per- 
haps have  studied  so  closely  the  habits  of 
this   royal   republic.    It    was    enough   to 

[101] 


THE    SWARM 

place  under  the  microscope,  as  Dujardin, 
Brandt,  Girard,  Vogel,  and  other  entomol- 
ogists have  done,  the  little  uncouth  and 
careworn  head  of  the  virgin  worker  sim 
by  side  with   the  somewhat  empty  skull 
of  the  queen   and  the  male's  magnificent 
cranium,    glistening   with    its   twenty-six 
thousand  eyes.    Within  this  tiny  head  we 
should  find   the  workings  of  the  vastest  _ 
and  most  magnificent   brain  of  the  hive:  • 
the  most  beautiful  and  complex,  and  the  . 
most  perfect,  that,  in  another  order  and 
with  a  difi^erent  organisation,  is  to  be  found  : 
in  nature  after  that  of   man.    Here  again, 
as  in    every    quarter    where    the  scheme 
of  the  world  is  known  to  us,  there  where 
the    brain    is,  are   authority  and  victory, 
veritable    strength      and     wisdom.     And 

[102] 


^m 


THE    SWARM 

here  again  it  is  an  almost  invisible  atom 
of  this  mysterious  substance  that  organises 
atid  subjugates  matter,  and  is  able  to  create 
its  own  little  triumphant  and  permanent 
oplace  in  the  midst  of  the  stupendous,  inert 
^lorces  of  nothingness  and  death.^ 


return   to  our  swarming 

luve,  where  the  bees  have  already  given 

j;^^^  The  brain  of  the  bee,  according  to  the  calculation 
##^^tEfei constitutes  the  1-1 74th  part  of  the  in- 
!*---^lect*s  weight,  and  that  of  the  ant  the  l-296th.  On 
i^^  .xthe  other  hand  the  peduncular  parts,  whose  develop- 
L —  feent  usually  keeps  pace  with  the  triumphs  the  intellect 
^^"^TJrhieves  over  instinct,  are  somewhat  less  important  in 
"'•-  the  bee  than  in  the  ant.  It  would  seem  to  result  from 
these  estimates  —  which  are  of  course  hypothetical,  and 
deal  with  a  matter  that  is  exceedingly  obscure  —  that 
the  intellectual  value  of  the  bee  and  the  ant  must  iJfeii|l 
more  or  less  equal. 

^''^[103] 


^  -oX 


THE    S'W^I^.^^.^ 
the  signal  for   departure,  without  waiting 


r^,  for  these  reflections  of  ours  to  come  to 

•/^'^         an  end.    At  the    moment  this   signal  iV \^ 

given,  it  is  as  though    one   sudden    mad 
-^         impulse    had    simultaneously    flung   open 
wide  every  single  gate  in  the  city;  and 
the  black  throng  issues,  or  rather  pours 
forth  in  a  double,  or  treble,  or  quadruple 
jet,  as  the  number  of  exits  may  be;  in  aT 
^,,  _      tense,    direct,  vibrating,  uninterrupted 
"^  stream  that  at  once  dissolves   and   melts 

J^').         into  space,  where  the  myriad  transparent, 
^iJ'-y/    furious   wings  weave   a  tissue  throbbing 
n  with  sound.    And  this  for  some  moments 

^■.||  will  quiver  right  over  the  hive,  with  pro- 

digious rustle  of  gossamer  silks  that 
countless  electrified  hands  might  be  cease- 
lessly rending  and  stitching;  it  floats  un- 

[104] 


THE    SWARM 

dulating,  it  trembles  and  flutters  like  a 
veil  of  gladness  invisible  fingers  support 
in  the  sky,  and  wave  to  and  fro,  from  the 
flowers  to  the  blue,  expecting  sublime 
advent  or  departure.  And  at  last  one 
angle  declines,  another  is  lifted;  the  radi- 
ant mantle  unites  its  four  sunlit  corners; 
and  like  the  wonderful  carpet  the  fairy- 
tale speaks  of,  that  flits  across  space  to 
obey  its  master's  command,  it  steers  its 
straight  course,  bending  forward  a  little 
as  though  to  hide  in  its  folds  the  sacred 
presence  of  the  future,  towards  the 
willow,  the  pear-tree,  or  lime  whereon 
the  queen  has  alighted;  and  round  her 
each  rhythmical  wave  comes  to  rest,  as 
though  on  a  nail  of  gold,  and  suspends 
its  fabric  of  pearls  and  of  luminous  wings. 
"    [  105  ] 


0 


THE    SWARM 

And  then  there  is  silence  once  more; 
and,  in  an  instant,  this  mighty  tumult, 
this  awful  curtain  apparently  laden  with 
unspeakable  menace  and  anger,  this  be- 
wildering golden  hail  that  streamed  upon 
every  object  near  —  all  these  become 
merely  a  great,  inoffensive,  peaceful  cluster 
of  bees,  composed  of  thousands  of  little 
motionless  groups,  that  patiently  wait,  as 
they  hang  from  the  branch  of  a  tree,  for 
the  scouts  to  return  who  have  gone  in 
search  of  a  place  of  shelter. 


4^     ^ 


This  is  the  first  stage  of  Wl 
known  as  the  "  primary  swarm  "  at  whose  ... 
head  the  old  queen  is  always  to  be  found.  ^<l^ 
They  will  settle  as  a  rule  on  the  shrub  tif  ^ 


r>?. 


■^.>^id^3-il 


i-iim 


THE    SWARM 

the  tree  that  is  nearest  the  hive;  for  the 
queen,  besides  being  weighed  down  by 
her  eggs,  has  dwelt  in  constant  darkness 
ever  since  her  marriage-flight,  or  the 
swarm  of  the  previous  year;  and  is  natu- 
rally reluctant  to  venture  far  into  space, 
having  indeed  almost  forgotten  the  use  of 
her  wings. 

The  bee-keeper  waits  till  the  mass  be 
completely  gathered  together;  then  having 
covered  his  head  with  a  large  straw  hat 
(for  the  most  inoffensive  bee  will  conceive 
itself  caught  in  a  trap  if  entangled  in 
hair,  and  will  infallibly  use  its  sting),  but, 
if  he  be  experienced,  wearing  neither 
mask  nor  veil ;  having  taken  the  precau- 
tion only  of  plunging  his  arms  in  cold 
water  up   to  the  elbow,  he   proceeds  to 

[107] 


THE    SWARM 

gather  the  swarm  by  vigorously  shaking 
the  bough  from  which  the  bees  depend 
over  an  inverted  hive.  Into  this  hive  the 
cluster  will  fall  as  heavily  as  an  over-ripe 
fruit.  Or,  if  the  branch  be  too  stout,  he 
can  plunge  a  spoon  into  the  mass;  and 
deposit  where  he  will  the  living  spoon- 
fuls, as  though  he  were  ladling  out  corn. 
He  need  have  no  fear  of  the  bees  that 
are  buzzing  around  him,  settling  on  his 
face  and  hands.  The  air  resounds  with 
their  song  of  ecstasy,  which  is  different 
from  their  chant  of  anger.  He  need  have  V 
^       no  fear  that   the    swarm   will    divide,  or-^^^*^-^ 

^     VV 

grow  fierce,  will  scatter,  or  try  to  escape,    -v 
This  is  a  day,  I  repeat,  when  a  spirit  of /^, 

i^       holiday  would  seem  to  animate  these  mys- 

<f_.. 

•  terious   workers,    a   spirit   of    confidence, 

[108] 


I 


1        *="       »s  / 


THE    SWARM 

that  apparently  nothing  can  trouble.  They 
have  detached  themselves  from  the  wealth 
they  had  to  defend,  and  they  no  longer 
recognise  their  enemies.  They  become 
inoflFensive  because  of  their  happiness, 
though  why  they  are  happy  we  know 
not,  except  it  be  because  they  are  obey- 
'"'^'"■'fng  their  law.    A  moment  of  such  blind 


happiness  is  accorded  by  nature  at  times  ::5itj 
to  every  living  thing,  when  she  seeks  to  '  ^^^ 
accomplish  her  end.  Nor  need  we  feel 
any  surprise  that  here  the  bees  are  her 
dupes;  we  ourselves,  who  have  studied 
her  movements  these  centuries  past,  and 
with  a  brain  more  perfect  than  that  of 
the  bee,  we  too  are  her  dupes,  and  know 
not  even  yet  whether  she  be  benevolent 
or  indifferent,  or  only  basely  cruel. 

[  109  ] 


THE    SWARM 

There  where  the  queen  has   alighted 
the  swarm  will  remain;  and  had  she  de- 
scended   alone    into    the   hive,  the   bees\ 
would  have  followed,  in  long  black  files,  /o 
as  soon  as  intelligence  had   reached  them 
of   the    maternal    retreat.     The   majorit}^;^^^^ 
will   hasten  to   her,  with  utmost   eager-'\x 
ness;  but  large   numbers  will  pause  for'"^ 
an   instant  on  the  threshold   of  the  un-^ 
known  abode,  and  there  will  describe  the 
circles  of  solemn   rejoicing  with  which 
is  their  habit  to  celebrate  happy  events.     ^ 
*'They  are    beating   to   arms,"    say    thfe 
French  peasants.    And   then   the   strange*^ ''>^ 
home  will  at  once  be  accepted,  and  its 
remotest  corners  explored;  its  position  in 
the  apiary,  its  form,  its  colour,  are  grasped      If 
and   retained  in  these  thousands  of  pru- 

[  110] 


I 


THE    SWARM 

dent  and  faithful  little  memories.  Careful 
.-^note  is  taken  of  the  neighbouring  land- 
arks,  the  new  city  is  founded,  and  its 
place  established  in  the  mind  and  the 
heart  of  all  its  inhabitants;  the  walls 
resound  with  the  love-hymn  of  the  royal 
presence,  and  work  begins. 

•:• 

But  if  the  swarm  be  not  gathered  by 
man,  its  history  will  not  end  here.  It 
will  remain  suspended  on  the  branch 
until  the  return  of  the  workers,  who  act- 
ing as  scouts,  winged  quartermasters,  as 
it  were,  have  at  the  very  first  moment  of 
swarming  sallied  forth  in  all  directions  in  ____. 
search  of  a  lodging.  They  return  one  bv, 
one,  and  render  account  of  their  mission; 
[  111  ] 


Iji'j!! 

'il-/ 


}^Z^ 


$ , 


M 


THE    SWAKi%r^ 

and  as  it  is  manifestly  impossible  for  ui 
to  fathom  the  thought  of  the  bees,  w^fXi^ 
can  only  interpret  in  human  fashion  the  "'""^ 
spectacle  that  they  present.  We  may 
regard  it  as  probable,  therefore,  that  most 
careful  attention  is  given  to  the  reports  of 
the  various  scouts.  One  of  them  it  may  be, 
dwells  on  the  advantage  of  some  hollow 
tree  it  has  seen;  another  is  in  favour  of 
a  crevice  in  a  ruinous  wall,  of  a  cavity 
in  a  grotto,  or  an  abandoned  burrow. 
The  assembly  often  will  pause  and  delib- 
erate until  the  following  morning.  Then 
at  last  the  choice  is  made,  and  approved 
by  all.  At  a  given  moment  the  entire 
mass  stirs,  disunites,  sets  in  motion,  and 
then,  in  one  sustained  and  impetuous 
flight,  that  this  time   knows  no  obstacle, 


\ 


w 


THE    SWARM 

it  will  steer  its  straight  course,  over 
hedges  and  cornfields,  over  haystack  and 
lake,  over  river  and  village,  to  its  deter- 
mined and  always  distant  gozl.  ^M^ 
rarely  indeed  that  this  second  stage  can 
be  followed  by  man.  The  swarm  returns 
to  nature;  and  we  lose  the  track  of  its 
J^stiny. 


Date  Due 

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